One Day
by Itsembarrassing
Summary: If it wasn't Smurf that Molly had a night of passion with prior to deployment. All rights to BBC and TG.
1. Chapter 1

**I'm having a wee bit of writers block with Invincible and until the words actually make sense I have been playing with this. It is a one-shot at the moment but maybe I'll bore you all with another few chapters while we are all waiting out patiently for the next series. I hope you enjoy xx**

"Christ he's coming over" I mutter the words under my breath as I pick up my empty drink, pretending to take a sip, waiting, trying to look cool, not like some sad sack that has been abandoned by my bleedin' mates, leaving me with no money for a taxi, hanging about the bar waiting for one of them to come past. Stuck regretting having given this bloke a cocky smile when by chance he'd caught me staring at him. He was so out of my league, a 10 to my paltry 5 3/4.

The height of him allows me to keep tabs on him from the corner of my eye as he approaches my direction, head and shoulders above nearly everyone else, an attractive sway to his hips as he walks. God, I think his walks sexy, this isn't fair I've never thought someone's walk was sexy. Who the fucking hell has a sexy walk, bloody him that's who. My heart is hammering in my chest as I think about bolting, until I angle my head in his direction and we make eye contact and the bastard winks at me. Just to make sure I turn and try to look behind me, just in case there's a tall attractive cow that he's actually heading towards and for me to feel even more like a muppet. When I look back he's standing beside me, well I think it's him, my eyes are only level with his chest, I feel as if they never stop as I realise how tall the twat is, though have to say the journey is worth it as I'm met with the most intense pair of brown eyes I've ever seen in my life, he doesn't say anything taking a sip of drink and then downing it in one and placing it on the bar with a resounding thud. The now empty hand that has been holding the glass extends towards me:

"Charles"

Only as I start my party trick of giggling do I notice the glassiness to his eyes as he struggles to focus for a moment.

"What's so fucking hilarious about Charles?"

"It's just the way you said it" his lips twitch, as if he was gonna join me in laughing before he focuses on me again.

"What's your name?"

"Molly"

"Molly the cockney"

"Charles the posh boy" I take his outstretched hand and for the first time in my life feel what everyone talks about in books, that jolt of electricity at our connection. He keeps a hold of it not letting go, his dark intelligent eyes appraising me, I don't fight to get it back.

"Do you want to dance Molly the cockney?"

He obviously hasn't expected anything other than a yes as instantly he turns and leads me towards the dance floor, managing to create a path for us as he walks, stopping at the edge where there is space rather than in the middle where my comfort zone normally lies with my crap dancing skills. His arms come out towards me, grabbing me by the hips to get me closer and then moving us into an old fashioned dance hold before starting to twirl me round, the steps in complete contrast to the upbeat dance music being played adding to the surrealness of the night. There is no warning as his fingers tip up my chin and his lips come crashing, bruisingly down on mine and it takes me a minute or two to realise just how much my body is craving this, the contact after so long of abstaining and the forbidden lust of someone new, someone who doesn't have expectations of me that I can disappoint, though going by the exploring his hands are doing he might be disappointed if I knock him back. His mouth demands that I open mine further as his hands cup my arse pulling me up and into him, one travelling to where it shouldn't be, causing me to pull away. "Christ I'll be calling you Charles the octopus soon" the shy smile he bestows on me making him even more bloody adorable and I want to grab him and go for round two.

"Let's get a drink Molly the prude"

"Listen mate, I've never been called that in my life" as we make our way back through the crowds, I'm having to shout to make myself heard, he turns, walking slightly unsteadily backwards, raising his eyebrows and laughing at me, stopping at the bar, pulling me into the side of him. I take advantage sliding an arm round his waist and feeling the tautness beneath his shirt.

"What would you like to drink?"

The wallet he takes out the inside of his blazer is like everything else about him quality, I can't help but watch as his fingers flick through all the crisp notes, the glint of gold cards catching my eye and I wonder what it would be like to have that much money, my friends wherever they are have already fallen out over the unfairness of our kitty system, something I'm sure him and his mates don't do.

"Molly the deaf what would you like to drink?"

I shrug my shoulders at his repeated question with this time a cute mime of someone drinking, my answer should obviously be water or at the least something soft but it almost comes as no surprise when a bottle of champagne is passed over the bar with 2 glasses and with a sway as he can't stand still he pays, not waiting for change, turning and indicating with his head for me to follow him.

"So what do you do Molly the cockney?"

We're sitting in a booth and have come up for air, my gob already missing his tongue which seems to fit perfectly in my mouth "beautician" I don't know why I said that, for some reason it being better than telling him I'm training to be a combat medic, a fear that this posh boy would ditch me even quicker if I tell him what I do "You?" He picks up my hand studying my short chipped finger nails and looks at me quizzically though I'm starting to realise how drunk he is as he almost goes cross eyed, giving up and dropping my hand.

"Same"

I let him away with it, laughing at his answer as he bumps his shoulder into mine, after all it doesn't really matter what he does during the day I will in all likelihood never see him again. The long fingers I had admired earlier and am continuing to have a bit of a fascination with finally get round to popping the cork, filling the glasses until they overflow with foam, no concern at the expensive liquid that is spilling over the table. I watch as he raises the glass to his lips, fascinated with his adam's apple as the liquid slides down his throat, turning and handing the same glass to me, I wonder if I can get away with taking the glass as a momento.

"Come back with me?"

"Where?" Obviously I know where, or I hope I know where but I just feel the need to make sure, that he isn't wanting to interview me to be his cleaner.

"I've got a hotel room"

So it was one of those times in life where you have to weigh up the consequences, on one hand I'd promised I'd left my one night stand days behind, the feeling of disappointment in myself when you woke up in a strange bed in the morning, regretting the quick shag that you'd had but then, part of me realised I'd never in my lifetime get the chance to shag a god of this magnitude again. I'd probably tell my grand kids about this, maybe if he fell asleep I could take a picture of him. And what seals the deal is he's looking at me with a hint of insecurity. "Better not be a bleedin' Travel Lodge?"

"No Molly the refined it's not. It's a bit grander than that"

"Premier Inn?"

"Would it matter?"

"God yeah I've got standards you know, anyway I'spose"

He screws up his face, like me he can't hide that in this moment he's happy or if being honest most probably pissed out of his nut "Spose, what's that meant to mean?".

I watch as his hand, the only steady thing about him comes up towards my face, his thumb trailing along my bottom lip, his full lips slightly apart, his breathing heavy, appraising me with those eyes that captivate as if already he's contemplating what he could do with me. The answer to that is easy - anything. "Well alright seeing as I don't have any other plans"

The boyish grin returns to his face as he stands up, grabbing my hand and leading me away, pausing beside his mates as I presume he tells them that he's leaving, I can't hear them and don't even try, he's got me pressed into his side and I'm quite content there. For some reason the fact that he's taking someone back seems to cause the bunch of tossers to get excited, patting him manly on the back, at this point I do consider, wonder what the bleedin' hell I'm doing till he looks down, grins at me like I'm the only girl in his world and I forget he's so pissed he's rocking on the soles of his feet as he tries to balance, and I've overdone the old shots and probably not best placed to make a sensible decision. I know in the cold light of day he'd never look at me and my gut instinct wins. I want this badly.

"I can't help it" I lean down to take the offending unwearable fashion items off "If you were my height I bet you'd try and get a bit of leverage" when I stand up my shoes in my hand he's lounging against a shop door, his arms crossed as he smirks at me.

"I'd be getting bloody stilts"

"Ha, ha you're bleedin' funny" He walks towards me, elbow at a right angle so I can put my arm through his as we continue companionably in our journey. "Fucking ouch" the rough pavement is biting into my feet and it only takes seconds for me to find myself upside down and looking down towards his arse, it is quite a nice view to be honest. My hand grabs a hold of his belt, as there's quite a height drop and it also means my hand is down the back of his boxers and I feel again that uncurling of need in the pit of my stomach, well i think it's that, I have a sudden panic that it might be the possibility of me regurgitating the Indian I'd had at the start of the night. "Put me fucking down". His free hand runs up my bare leg not stopping till it reaches my arse cheeks so I skelp him on his backside causing him to chuckle.

"Kinky, but I'm not really into that"

"Well I'm not into being carted round the streets of sodding wherever we are by a posh dick." My retort is maybe a bit louder than I intend but it is difficult to judge just how loud you are when you're speaking to someone's arse, therefore, unsurprisingly enough I find my bare feet making contact with the ground and after I've sorted my dress, pulling it down and up if you know what I mean, I give my most innocent smile "Piggy back?" His answer is thankfully to pull me into him and start kissing me again, his hand supporting the back of my neck as he holds me against him till he pulls away and runs his hand across his mouth, looking slightly confused till with a shake of his head he clears whatever's going on.

"There's no fucking wall"

He's right, and I make one attempt to scrabble up his back. It doesn't work though in my defence I am pretty nimble what with my army training and you try vaulting onto a bloke who must be at least 6'2 whilst wearing a LBD with no give. Gentlemanly he leans forward, putting his hands on his knees. It really is quite a nice sight...

"Stop staring at my arse and get on"

I let out a huff at the untimely end of my appreciation before starting the first of what turns out to be 12 attempts, though not all are my fault as what with the drink he'd sunk he was out of balance for at least 4 of them causing him to stumble forward, 3 of them we were pissing ourselves laughing too much until with athletic grace, or something like that, I was on. Okay eventually he was on the ground on his hands and knees as I clambered on, and the cheeky sod pretended that he struggled to stand up "This is like that crap vampire film innit'"

"If I knew what crap vampire film you referred to or what innit' actually meant I'd let you know"

I bite his ear. Well I was perfectly placed. "You know the one, him with the sparkling skin and her with her face like she's had botox or summit, mind you he can run with her on his back"

"Yes, well he maybe didn't have the weight disadvantage"

I think he maybe likes me biting his ear, and was encouraging me to do it again. "I think you'll find this is all muscle and its heavier than fat"

"I was talking about your shoes actually"

Fuck, he picks up a jog, I can't believe how bloody fit he is in more ways than one, it is actually quite awesome cause my sprint isn't as fast as his jog and it is honestly like I weigh nothing. "Hold on tight spider monkey"

"What?"

"Edward"

"Its Charles"

I dig my mouth into his shoulder, taking a mouthful of shirt, trying to contain my laughter, but I'm not very good at it, I'm struggling to get my next words out "No the vampire in the film's Edward and that's what he says. I can't believe you'd thought I'd forgotten your name, bell end"

"Thats not funny"

"That you thought I'd forgotten your name? Yes it is." I pull myself up a bit and kiss him apologetically on his neck, knowing by the smirk on the side of his face that he thought it was funny but he just isn't as good as me at showing it.

We come to an abrupt halt as we reach the doors of the hotel and he lets me slide down his body, I snort when I realise it is a Premier Inn, a snort which isn't lost on him as he shakes his head, as if warning me not to take the piss.

"It was the only place that had space at the last minute for us all"

"Whatever"

Like a gentleman he holds the door open and takes my shoes off me before scooping me up and carrying me to the lifts. Without the distraction to my senses of the nightclub I can smell the expensive aftershave, committing it to my memory. If it weren't a drunken one night stand it would be the most romantic moment of my life especially when we get in the lift and he holds me effortlessly against him with one arm while he punches in the floor number, not letting my bare feet touch the manky floor as he shifts me so my legs are wrapped around him and I'm shoved against the mirrored wall whilst we embark on another quality snog, we even miss our bloody floor and have to do the trip twice. I'm not complaining, I would stay in that lift all night.

I finally feel the roughness of the carpet beneath my bare feet as we reach the door of the room, his arm round my waist as if he's protecting me, a doubtful expression as he swipes the card and the light refuses to blink to green. He looks up again checking the room number, squishing his nose up, a naive drunken innocence to the problem in front of him. I remove the card from his fingers, leaving him free to push my hair to one side, his mouth coming into contact with my neck, I turn the card to correspond with the guide picture and as I swipe, the light changing to green, I can feel his smile against my neck. His hands envelope mine, one to help him open the door as if he needs this to be a team decision and the other to take the card off me, placing it back in his pocket. I'm moving forward through the door, propelled by his body, only stopping as we reach the bed and he turns me round to face him. A hand comes up to rest on my face, his eyes constantly shifting as he tries to take in as much of me as he can. My head is shouting at me that I won't come out of this unscathed, that as with everything in my life I'm going to come out of this the hurt one but I ignore it as I always have done.

"You alright?"

"Bit nervous" I'm not sure what his reaction is going to be, a feeling of relief lightening me as he pulls me towards him and kisses the top of my head, holding me against his lips.

"We don't have to do anything you don't want okay" releasing me he takes a step back. "Do you want a drink?"

"Bleedin' he'll you had a party in here?" When I look properly there are bottles and tumblers taking up every conceivable surface and I watch as he lifts up empty after empty looking for one which has vodka left. "You celebrating something?"

"Being able to be with you?"

The grin he gives me is pure filth which my body immediately responds to, the retort that he hadn't even met me when him and his mates downed all this alcohol dying on my lips. I watch him holding two plastic tumblers in one palm while pouring the remains of the bottle between them adding a splash of cola. By the time he's bringing them over to me I'm sitting on the end of the bed with my legs tucked under me. "Cheers"

""Cheers... Music?" the suggestion comes to him as we're clinking tumblers and he's leaning over for the remote, the television blaring into life "Shit sorry"

"Awkward" I can't hide my amusement, the porn on screen and the corresponding sound filling the room.

"Fucking awkward, would you believe me if I told you it wasn't me that was watching it?"

"Nah probably not"

That shy smile that has been instrumental in getting me here returns, his hand reaches across my lap, grasping mine, studying, straightening his own fingers, waiting till I do the same, my hand hardly even filling the palm of his, he interlocks our fingers and takes a sip of his drink.

"Tell me about yourself Molly"

"I don't want to talk" I don't, telling him about myself will only expose our differences, make him realise I'm not the person he needs me to be, I'm not the person I want to be.

"What do you want to do then?" Dipping his head towards me he waits till I look at him, his voice laced with suggestion, and wordlessly I look behind him at the bed, checking back that he understands. He does. "Are you sure about this?"

My only answer is to nod, for once in my life no cheeky retort and I can only sit and stare as he breaths out a laugh, as if he's relieved at my answer.

"Well" the tumbler is removed from my hand, placed on the floor "I think we're both wearing too many clothes" the zip at the back of my dress starts to descend as he tugs at my waist to get me to stand up, positioning me between his legs. I'm crapping myself, completely out my depth as he stares at me with some strange kind of wonder as if he's the lucky one. He ain't. I can't even start to help him with his clothes, my mind frozen as my bra and knickers join the dress on the floor. Looking down at his hands I can't believe how tiny they make my body look as he familiarises himself, slowly. When he stands up I nervously laugh feeling his body pressing against me, well something impressive is pressing against me.

"What with being a short arse 'n' that I'm not sure that's gonna fit"'

"I've never had any complaints" he pulls his shirt over his head not wasting time undoing all the buttons, inclining his head towards the bed, I do what I instinctively know he wants, leaving him to get undressed as I pull the quilt back and settle myself down, self consciously covering myself trying not to blush at the way his eyes are watching me, a lazy confident smile on his face as he pulls the sheets back and comes over towards me.

The hands that I'd been admiring on the champagne bottle are now continuing their exploration of my curves, much to my bodies delight and I realise that probably like everything else in his life he is fucking good at this and all of a sudden I don't care how he gets it in, I need him. We do have a momentary battle of wills as I struggle to get him placed where I need him to be and he and his perfect body show who was in charge, keeping me where he wants, not letting me escape as the pressure builds till I only bleedin' come which was quite frankly a miracle after all the jaeger bombs I've sunk. I don't get much chance to lie there and gloat, my mind fuzzy and content as he moves on top of me parting my legs and having a good look at where he wants to be.

"Condom, bedside table, now"

Each word is interspersed with a kiss or a bite along my cheekbone, his hands busy making sure my body is going to be ready for him. I'm never sure why men always want the girls to get the condom like it was some kind of power trip they held over them. If it had been my previous bloke Artem I would have told him to get it himself as I managed to catch another second or two of telly instead of what I was doing now - reaching across and feeling till I locate the foil packet, ripping it open with my teeth and handing it to him. I even watch as he rolls it on, watch as one hand pumps up and down and the other widens my legs, settling himself against me and pushing. It took a few attempts my body rocking with his until with a self satisfied hiss of breath he was in, smiling at me like we had just achieved something miraculous. It bleedin' feels like it. My body has never felt so full, my mind so turned on as I watch him watching me as he builds the perfect rhythm and though this time it's about him the friction is creating a delicious feeling in my body and I don't want it to end as I cling onto him, missing the contact when his body leaves mine as he shifts over, dealing with the aftermath before he lies beside me again, pulling me into his arms, turning my face towards him and gently kissing me, resting his head on the pillow next to me as his fingers reassuringly stroke my hair away from my face:

"You are a star Molly, taking my mind of the utter emptiness of my life"

Within seconds he's sleeping, the sound of drunken snoring filling the room and if I hadn't reached over to grab the glass of water placed on the bedside cabinet, knocking his wallet onto the floor and seeing the Army Identify card I would have stayed, hopeful that in the morning he might want to see me again. But I pick it up and at first I'm only interested in seeing his name and date of birth but I don't get that far, realising he's a Captain. And there's one thing I know, it is never going to happen between a Captain and a lowly Private.

I remove myself from the warmth, watching as in a disturbed sleep his arm tries to find me before he stills and his breathing becomes regular again. I'm scrabbling around trying to find everything, looking for my shoes that he had when we came in, eventually finding them underneath his blazer. I take the time to look at him one last time, a sadness coming over me that I'm not good enough before I walk to the door, cringing at the loud click as I open it.

"Where are you going?"

"Toilet" My hand stills on the door handle, and with trepidation I turn and look back but he's still lying down, facing away from me, oblivious to my cowardly escape plan.

"Well get a move on, I need you in this bed Molly"

The door shuts behind me, and I jump, the bang louder than expected. I'm looking down the corridor, the one I was carried along earlier by a strong pair of arms now seems to stretch for eternity. I wonder when this girl from East Ham is going to start growing up, taking responsibility for her actions when the door opens behind me:

"I know it's only a fucking Premier Inn but it does have a sodding en-suite Molly"

His eyes are bloodshot and in the harsh light of the corridor he has to squint to see me, squint to see that I'm dressed, that I've got my bag, he looks at me with confusion and I don't think I've ever felt such a coward in my life.

"I need to go".

He nods his head as continuing to take in my dressed state as if his mind can't work out how I've gone from naked in his bed to dressed and standing outside.

"Any reason?"

"I'm a Private and well..."

"Ahhhhhh" I don't need to continue, to go on explaining, he gets it "and I'm an Officer"

"Yup"

"Will you get back alright?"

"Of course" I don't have any money for a taxi and have a shitting long walk ahead of me but he doesn't need to know that.

"Will you get back alright?"

Well that'll be his Commanding Officer tone I presume. Lifting my shoulder in a dismissive shrug at his repeated question he motions me inside, I have to be honest and say that I'm hoping that he's going to tell me that he needs me in his life or some romantic shit like that but he doesn't, what he does do though is takes some of that money out of his wallet, put it in his back pocket and start to get dressed. I'm standing like a spare part when he comes over and takes my hand.

"Come on let's get you a taxi"

"You don't have to" Mortified doesn't even go half way to explaining how I feel at his chivalrous act, if he'd handed me money I would have felt like a prostitute or something but this way its as if he's looking after me, that in some small way he cares that I'm going to be alright.

When the taxi arrives, that he'd ordered and paid for I wonder if begging would work but I'm silenced by his hands clasping my face and pulling my forehead to his lips.

"Maybe see you around one day, okay?"

"Yeah, if you're lucky mate"

He smiles, shaking his head at me before he turns and walks away and I make a silent prayer to myself that one day, I will see him again.


	2. 82 Sleeps Till Christmas

**I haven't given up on Invincible, hopefully the next chapter will be up next week. Sometimes (practically always) this writing lark doesn't come easy to me and this can show in my struggle to get words on paper at times. Hope you enjoy this, the next few chapters are written and should be easier as there will be the fantastic script of TG to stick to though hopefully I will manage to make it a bit different as their time in Afghan has been well covered by everyone and I wouldn't be able to compare. As it's been months this story is when it was CJ & Molly who had the night of passion before going their separate ways. Hope you enjoy xx**

4 sleeps till I get deployed to Afghanistan, 82 sleeps till Christmas. Guess what I'm doing, yup my Christmas shopping, well in between stop gap visits for some festive cheer, you can't do your Christmas shopping in October with no Christmas Trees or Christmas songs or knowing that you're not gonna' go back home and easily find Elf or something on the Tele without entering into the spirit of it by getting a little bit teeny tinsy, jingle bells singing, tinsel wearing out of my tits drunk. Thank god so is Bella and I sigh with the love I feel for her as she pulls another pumpkin off the orange garland round her neck, the closest we could get to festive tinsel at this time of year, with a grin I lean over and wrap it tighter round her neck, god I love my sis. I think us popping into Harvey Nicks is a brilliant idea, not that we need to bond we've had a shitty childhood to do that but any quality time together is always a bonus, especially since I've joined the army.

I've never in my life realised how good a French Martini is, I could get used to this, well I am as without counting I think I'm on my fifth and that doesn't count the vodka and cokes beforehand. Thank god Bella's mate Tracy works in the perfume department here and has joined us as her shift is finished and she's getting us a discount.

I think my plan to get rat arsed was a good one as it means that a, my liver will be glad of the break when I head off for 6 months and b, I might actually sleep tonight 'cause I got no sleep last night as everything kept on going through my nut. Replaying over and over in my head that moment my OC called me over mid exercise and told me to pack was the strangest thing ever, when they had started talking about drawdown I'd assumed that I was going to miss the chance to be deployed, to put into action everything I had trained for but no, thanks to some poor sod being injured I'm going to be a last minute replacement. This doesn't worry me, after all I'm a medic and part of my job is to get moved about and I'm good at fitting in, I've had to be, so I'm not worried about being with people I don't know for 6 months 'cause one things for sure I'll know them at the end of my 6 months.

"Tell Tracy about the bloke you promished?"

"Just a minute" I've not told many people about that night, most of my mates wouldn't believe me but the scent of him that helped with my memories has started to dwindle and I decided that my Christmas present to me would be to find his aftershave. If it had been just a thanks for the shag, I've payed your taxi now sod off I wouldn't have been chatting to Tracy in Harvey Nicks trying to describe an aftershave, not that my description helped much, sexy, expensive and manly was all I could come up with but anyway as I said she's joined us and is making our dosh last longer by using her discount card.

I'm waiting on my phone downloading a message, that annoying way where you can see you've got an email from your new CO, but it's taking ages to download, I'm even trying to wave it about in the air above me to help it pick up, my face splitting into a grin as I take in the horizon of London out the windows off the fifth floor, the twinkling lights of the City almost festive before the sound of my phone letting me know that the message has successfully landed in my inbox. It's probably not going to be that interesting just him welcoming me to the platoon or something, but first impressions are important so I should send him a professional friendly reply back. He's maybe going to tell me to enjoy my last few days before I have 6 months of daily wondering if I'm gonna' die. "Ah here we go…."

 _ **To : MDawes**_

 _ **From : Captain James**_

 _ **Subject : Deployment to Afghanistan - Replacement Medic**_

 _ **Date : 3rd October 2013 :12:33**_

 _Private Dawes_

 _I have been unable to reach you on your mobile number to welcome you to our platoon and to go over important details before our deployment. As I'm sure you are aware it is not ideal that you are joining us at such short notice, I would like to suggest that you join us tomorrow to meet the Section for debriefing; partake in a group PE session and to discuss any concerns you may have as it has also been brought to my attention that this is your first posting overseas. Please advise Corporal Kinders of your expected arrival time at Barracks and he shall meet you at the guardhouse._

 _Captain James_

"Shiit"

"Whaishit"

When I look up Bella is reading the message over my shoulder, her clear green eyes widening in drunken disbelief. It's now 6pm in the evening, it would take me 2 hours to get home in the rush hour, then I'd have to pack and be on the train at shitting early o'clock tomorrow morning, and I had plans for tomorrow. Hair of the dog and all that.

"Tell him to pish off, do ya want me to?" Her hand reaches over for the phone till I angle it out of her reach, I have enough brain cells still activating to know that Bells plus phone ain't a good idea for my new CO seeing the real professional me.

"It's fine Bells, I'll just send a quick reply and that'll be that"

 _T_ _ **o : Captain James**_

 _ **From : MDawes**_

 _ **Subject : Re - Deployment to Afghanistan - Replacement Medic**_

 _ **Date : 3rd October 2013 : 18:05**_

 _Really sorry but my last CO (top bloke) kindly gave me the long weekend off so I could spend time with my 'family' before I head off to possibly get killed. Reception here is utter crap but that's sodding London for you._

 _Private Dawes_

"Another drink" I feel good that way when you've dealt with something you don't want to and you don't need to worry about it anymore, it's almost like I've got that holiday feeling back and I want to celebrate some more by getting another 3 martini's, and I could be wrong but I think the barman might be chatting me up. It's not as if I've not been chatted up in the last 3 months but time is running out, 6 months of staying away from the opposite sex beckons and maybe a final no emotion shag is what I need.

"Molls phone beeped again"

The bloke behind the bar smiles at me in a sleazy you're gonna' be easy grin and I think nah I'm better than this and I truly believe it as I pick up the tray of cocktail glasses and head back to our table in the corner, for once not feeling inferior to the obvious class divide of the people I'm walking past as with confidence I realise that probably none of them have been away fighting; putting their lives at risk to make the world a better place for others. Swiping my phone I give Bella a reassuring smile, probably just my new CO telling me to enjoy my days off having realised it was a bit rude to ask me to come off authorised leave;

 _ **To : MDawes**_

 _ **From : Captain James**_

 _ **Subject : Re; Re - Deployment to Afghanistan - Replacement Medic**_

 _ **Date : 3rd October 2013 : 18:11**_

 _I strongly advise that you reconsider your plans for tomorrow, you will have the weekend off to spend time with your 'family'. Can you please contact Corporal Kinders to discuss if you wish to stay overnight at Barracks tonight or Friday._

 _Captain James_

"God he's bleedin' insistent"

"What did he say"

Tracy even leans forward to listen as I read out the latest message. My voice impersonating a posh upper class accent which I'm presuming my new CO will have, I've yet to meet one who doesn't though I have met one whose voice was gorgeous and posh not just angry and posh.

 _ **To : Captain James**_

 _ **From : MDawes**_

 _ **Subject : Re; Re; Re - Deployment to Afghanistan - Replacement Medic**_

 _ **Date : 3rd October 2013 : 18:14**_

 _Dear Captain James_

 _I'm not used to such informality, I would feel far more comfortable if you could let me know what your surname is._

 _Private Dawes x_

I've not even placed my phone back on the table when an angry beep is emitted, well it sounds that way to me. Through my drunken haze I can feel irritation starting to creep in that on a precious day off this wanker is interrupting my last few hours with my sister . My patience is starting to wear out and just to try and relax myself I down my cocktail - though I still can't taste the pineapple juice, I wouldn't be surprised if they were taking the piss about it being in my drink. It's not as if he needs to worry about me, I'm the dog's bollocks at my job; everyone says so and I'm not even doubting that soon he will be praising my high standards and dedication where as I will be enjoying getting one over on him as many times as possible.

 _ **To : MDawes**_

 _ **From : Captain James**_

 _ **Subject : Re; Re; Re; Re - Deployment to Afghanistan - Replacement Medic**_

 _ **Date : 3rd October 2013 : 18:16**_

 _Private Dawes_

 _That is my surname. I would appreciate if you did not put an x after your name._

 _Captain James_

 _ **To : Captain James**_

 _ **From : MDawes**_

 _ **Subject : Re; Re; Re; Re; Re - Deployment to Afghanistan - Replacement Medic**_

 _ **Date : 3rd October 2013 : 18:18**_

 _To : Captain James_

 _Sorry Sir, it was predictive text x_

 _Private Dawes x (I've even tried deleting and I can't) x_

"Do you think at Sandhurst they have a whole section, like six months intensive training on not having a sense of humour" I sit back with a huff and lay my head against Bella's shoulder, my world and everything in it is starting to spin slightly, I think I might be allergic to pineapple juice.

"I dunno' where and what is Sandhurst?"

I'm not really concentrating as I watch Tracy at the bar, the barman now chatting her up, though going by the 6 cocktail glasses being filled up with a flourish there is maybe method in her madness, "Place for posh people whose family have bought them a place in the army, not somewhere the likes of us will ever go."

"It must be a bit strange, like you're going to be spending 6 months with a load of guys you don't even know. Will any of them be good looking?"

These questions have become more frequent and I'm a bit concerned that my 19 year old sister is thinking about joining up just for the blokes, unlike me she has decided that the boys that she's grown up with aren't worth considering and she needs to widen her horizons "Prob not, and anyway they're just boys, immature boys" The smile she gives me is one of disbelief as if I'm holding out on her "And believe me when you're into treble figures of them dropping their pants so you can tell them if they've got crabs or not they become even less attractive"

"What about the ones that boss you about?"

That will be the ones who I am kept away from, well not just me, anyone without a commission, they're not even meant to shop in the NAAFI with the likes of us minions, contact is kept to an absolute minimum "They have to pledge some oath that even though they're brought up to look down on the likes of us and even though we're not good enough for them, nothing is going to happen between us, so even if he was attractive, which he won't be, there would never be a chance." My mind casts back to Charles but being honest that isn't unusual even a less tenuous link would have me thinking about him which is why I spent most of the morning trying to find his aftershave, that elusive scent that i can't quite get out of my nostrils to go with the images I can't quite get out my nut; the memories of being in a comfortable bed with his warm body wrapped round me, his hand placed reassuringly on my stomach and his breath; the tang of drink, almost sweet against my cheek as for once emotionally and physically I was where I should be; where I wanted to be.

"Surely you joined the army for fit blokes though?"

Some part of my conscious decides to shout out now that being sarcastic to my new CO probably isn't the best idea and with a foggy alcohol induced brain I start to do some damage limitation, pressing send as I look up at my sister "No, I joined the army because I wanted to do something with my life, to make a difference and to get well paid" And the majority of that is true, the decent pay is just a bonus - I love my job.

 _ **To : Captain James**_

 _ **From : MDawes**_

 _ **Subject : Re; Re; Re; Re; Re; Re - Deployment to Afghanistan - Replacement Medic**_

 _ **Date : 3rd October 2013 : 18::32**_

 _Captain James_

 _Whilst enjoying my last day of previously agreed annual leave by a Major I will visit an Apple shop and complain about the predictive text that keeps adding a x. x_

 _ **To : MDawes**_

 _ **From : Captain James**_

 _ **Subject : Re: Re; Re; Re; Re; Re; Re - Deployment to Afghanistan - Replacement Medic**_

 _ **Date : 3rd October 2013 : 18:33**_

 _I really don't think there's any need._

 _Captain James_

 _ **To : Apple Support Desk**_

 _ **From : MDawes**_

 _ **CC : CaptainJames**_

 _ **Subject : HUGE PROBLEM**_

 _ **Date : 3rd October 2013 : 18:36**_

 _I am shortly to be sent to a war zone, and would like to alert you to a problem with your iphone 4s model, for some reason it keeps adding an x to the end of my messages to my Commanding Officer (If you don't have them in America they are shittin' seriously respected members of the armed forces here - almost like gods) and I don't think he's best pleased. I've only got 1 day of shopping left before heading off as I've got a weekend of getting well plastered - already started - before 6 months of not drinking 6 MONTHS! and I wondered if I could pop into one of your London branches tomorrow and let you have a gander._

 _Private Dawes x (see what I mean)_

"More coming" 3 beautiful artful cocktails are handed out by Tracy as she inclines her head towards the route she has just taken from the bar, indicating the bar man heading over towards us with a matching tray. By the time he's reached the table we've downed our first drinks, giving him a riotous round of applause as he carefully arranges the drinks in front of us, this time giving Bella his lothario eye until he meets my death stare and looks away. I'm only stopped from getting up and telling him to keep his hands off by the now habitual beep of my phone.

 _ **To : MDawes**_

 _ **From : Apple Support Centre**_

 _ **Subject : Your question has been logged.**_

 _ **Date : 3rd October 2013 : 18:39**_

 _This is an automated response please do not reply._

 _Your request is currently being dealt with and one of our advisors will take a look at your issue._

 _Thank you from the Apple Team._

 _ **To : The Apple Support Centre**_

 _ **cc : Captain James**_

 _ **Subject : Re : Your question has been logged.**_

 _ **Date : 3rd October 2013 : 18:43**_

 _Thanks for your bleedin quick reply and for taking this issue seriously, I'm glad to hear that I am not the only one to have this problem._

 _When you next speak to him can you thank Siri for me, his suggestion for the curry house last night was the nuts. Don't think I've ever had such a wicked South Indian Garlic Chilli Chicken x_

 _Private Dawes x (problem still happening)_

 _ps - if you do need to replace it )as you suggested in your lengthy reply( can I please have a gold one like what the Kardashian's have got and a bit more memory and if it could hold its charge better x_

"So Molly, this bloke that you fell in love with"

"I ain't fallen in love with him" I didn't, I'm not that sad not after just one night but I definitely fell in like, a lot of like but it's a moot point anyway as it seems I'm never going to bump into him again and even if I did I'm realistic enough to know I haven't got a scoobies chance but I do have a fear that he's ruined me for anyone else.

"Yes you did, you've gotta' tell her Molls, and don't leave anything out"

Leaning over towards Tracy I run my finger round the paltry foam which is left from my final French Martini, we're all adult enough to know we've had enough which is why I'm now waiting on 3 vodka and cokes being delivered to the table. "You see, after what I told you earlier about him getting me a taxi 'n' that, well he didn't just do that"

"He didn't Tracy"

Tracy is looking between us wide eyed though that could be with the trouble she's having focusing.

"Yeah we pulled up in front of a 24 hour tesco and well" I'm not sure that I want to share this, even after I'd told Bella I felt as if I'd lost a bit of the magic about it but I can't stop now and with a pain in my gut I let myself relive that night "And the taxi driver said that he'd been given me money to buy myself a pair of comfy shoes for my walk from the guardhouse to my quarters"

"He'd done that after one shag?" My sister nods vehemently in answer to Tracy's question, I hope if I ever bump into him again I'm not with Bella, actually scrap that, I'd be more than happy to bump into him in any circumstance.

"Yeah he did but I 'spose when you are that bleedin' rich something like that's easy to do"

"Honestly Molls, look at my job, i deal with the rich and famous all the time and none of them ever do anything more than they need, he sounds lovely, could you not just of got the taxi driver to take you back and payed him back in kind"

"Nah I just…"

 _ **To: MDawes**_

 _ **From : Captain James**_

 _ **Subject : Re; Re: Re; Re; Re; Re; Re; Re - Deployment to Afghanistan - Replacement Medic**_

 _ **Date : 3rd October 2013 : 18:55**_

 _Private Dawes_

 _Can you phone me directly on 01252 xxxxxxx_

 _Captain James_

 _Commanding Officer_

 _ **To: Captain James**_

 _ **From : MDawes**_

 _ **Subject : Re; Re; Re: Re; Re; Re; Re; Re; Re - Deployment to Afghanistan - Replacement Medic**_

 _ **Date : 3rd October 2013 : 19:01**_

 _I've tried to phone but I can't get a reception. Sorry!_

 _ **To: MDawes**_

 _ **From : Captain James**_

 _ **Subject : Re; Re; Re; Re: Re; Re; Re; Re; Re; Re - Deployment to Afghanistan - Replacement Medic**_

 _ **Date : 3rd October 2013 : 19:09**_

 _Your phone is ringing out which suggests that I am able to reach you._

 _ **To: Apple Support**_

 _ **Cc : Captain James**_

 _ **From : MDawes**_

 _ **Subject : Re; Re : Your question has been logged.**_

 _ **Date : 3rd October 2013 : 19:11**_

 _Could I please add onto my list that my phone accepts incoming calls from very important people. There seems to be a problem with this :)_

 _Dawesy_

 _(Please note a lack of x which I am well chuffed about)_

"... Just like the chance to see him again, you know to talk to him see if it's all my 'magination or summit, I don't know, hopefully this 6 months away will give me the chance to get over him. Bloody hell" But this time when I look it's not the number withheld but my last CO's number which is flashing up on my screen.

I can't get out of answering this one. "Sir"

"The proverbial Molly Dawes answers her phone at last"

"Reception's a bit shit and that Sir, you know how it is"

"Yes common problem in the capital of London." He pauses a minute to let his sarcasm sink in, allowing me to stand up and move away from the table though I have to apologise to the couple I bump into, my legs seem to have a mind of their own. I lean against the window, looking out over the City, a sense of melancholy settling over me "Do you know why I'm phoning you Private Dawes?"

"You're missing me Sir?"

"You're new CO has been on the phone apparently he's having a lovely game of email tennis with you"

"What Sir?" God these privately educated prannets don't half talk a lot of tosh. "I've never played tennis, i've never even met him"

"No Dawes, he elaborated slightly on his inability to get hold of you and the lack of respect you're showing him with your emails" he does that pause again which I know means I've got to keep quiet, I am actually pretty good at showing respect when I'm not on a day off and rat arsed "Shall we say he was a bit pissed down the phone at me and asking for a replacement for you already. Just spent the last 5 minutes assuring him that you are a damn fine medic with an unfortunately unique sense of humour. If I was you I would get your arse down to Aldershot tomorrow morning."

"Sir?"

"Yes Dawes?"

"When you say my unique sense of humour, does that mean you think I'm well funny Sir?"

"I've had 1 year to get to know you Dawes and am aware that underneath all that bravado there is a professional, respectful soldier struggling to get out, now shall I advise Captain James that you will indeed be gracing his platoon with your presence tomorrow?"

"Yes Sir"

"Excellent Dawes oh and while I remember, your new CO is very experienced, you could learn a lot from him okay?"

"Yes Sir"

 _ **To : Captain James**_

 _ **From : MDawes**_

 _ **Subject : Re; Re; Re; Re; Re: Re; Re; Re; Re; Re; Re - Deployment to Afghanistan - Replacement Medic**_

 _ **Date : 3rd October 2013 :19:25**_

 _Will check out train times and let the Corporal know when I'm due to arrive at Barracks._

 _Private Dawes_

 _ **To : MDawes**_

 _ **From : Captain James**_

 _ **Subject : Re; Re; Re; Re; Re; Re: Re; Re; Re; Re; Re; Re - Deployment to Afghanistan - Replacement Medic**_

 _ **Date : 3rd October 2013 : 19:29**_

 _Unfortunately I will be unavailable to meet you tomorrow, I have briefed Corporal Kinders about our conversation and have suggested that it would be a good idea to postpone the PE session until the afternoon, I can only suggest that you ensure that you rehydrate over the next 18 hours._

 _As much as I appreciate a sense of humour in an appropriate setting can I please remind you of the importance of the task ahead and that you apply yourself to your important role as replacement medic within my team in a professional manner that will befit the training invested in you by the British Army._

 _Captain James_

I can picture him already, he'll be short prob about 5'6 and have little man syndrome, he might even have a comb over and probably he's been looked over for promotion to Major so that'll be adding to his personality failure too. In my 2 years in the army I've met them all; his parents will have shipped him off to Boarding School and in secret he probably likes taking it up the arse. It's fine though 'cause I'll hardly ever see him, these types are never that involved, it's Kinders that I'm going to make the effort with after all he is my direct NCO and hopefully he's not had his sense of humour surgically removed.

With a deep sigh I lean my head against the glass pane, a dull ache already starting in my nut as if my body knows that it may as well start my hangover now if I've got any chance of redeeming myself to my new section. With a final look over London, my home and my security for the last 21 years of my life I can't help wondering if he's out there, somewhere and possibly, just maybe, occasionally thinking about me before I turn and head back to my sister, the rest of the night a washout thanks to the sad tosser that is now my Commanding Officer.


	3. The Trouble with Flying

**Thank you all so much for your lovely comments, they are very much appreciated!**

"Oh Bollocks" I can't bleedin' believe this, not here not now, I have to do a double check as if I'm seeing things, but no it definitely is, my eyes ain't deceiving me; when I've got a full day of travelling ahead of me my shitty phone is sitting at 10 crappy percent. I knew I shouldn't have listened to music on the journey up, bloody knew it, and also shouldn't have forgotten to switch it off as I left it playing happily in my Bergen. Now I'm going to have to sit bored for the entire journey and play a solo game of eye spy or summit'. Not moving I keep sitting on the floor with my phone in my hand and looking around for a plug socket, if I can find somewhere, by the time we've done the Platoon photograph and hung about I should have my phone up to at least 50% and if I put it on Airplane mode that should save some battery for watching the downloaded West Ham match from the weekend that I missed, it's not as if any of my family is gonna' bother trying to phone me at 9am in the morning, it's been drizzling down with rain all they way from London to Birmingham and in my house, the sound of rain hitting off the window panes is a reason to keep everybody indoors and in their beds, like they might all catch radiation or something.

"Everything alright Dawesy?"

I should really be thankful that that seems to be my appointed nickname; after all for the only girl in the platoon it could have been far worse. One girl I knew on exercise said she'd been called Tits her entire training and when I heard some of the lads nicknames I was a bit shall we say worried. After all when they're introduced to you as Fingers and Dangles; don't ask 'cause I did 'n' I'll regret it for the rest of my life. Nude Nut; ask someone other than me 'cause I'm still none the wiser. Kinders; his second name but some of the lads call him Eggy, even I got that one. Baz Vegas - from Basildon; Mansfield Mike - from Mansfield (Or Derby bit confusing) I was hoping it was something much more exciting. Brains; 'cause it appears that he is the only one with them which doesn't say much for the rest of them and last but not least Smurf; yup you've guessed it though when I suggested that he looked confused and said he well didn't look like a Smurf, really? Why else would he be called that, but he's not blue lets just clarify that - he's happy and well even just as he's standing there with a stupid grin on his face I'm somehow reminded of a Smurf. "Sodding phone's ran out of battery"

"Didn't charge it up?"

Why I'm showing it to him I don't know, it's not as if he's going to magically make the battery re-energise "Course I did, but it bloody drained on the way up here"

"You met the Bossman yet?"

"Nah, not yet, Corp said he'd give me a shout when the Captain was free" I'm keeping out of his way for as long as possible, with a sober head the next morning I spent a lovely train journey up to Aldershot reading the messages and groaning, loudly. Okay, I waited till 5 minutes outside of Aldershot and then got a shot of bravery and read the emails 'cause I couldn't quite remember them and oh my god were they worse than I remembered. The only one I was thankful to read was the one saying that he wasn't going to be there that day, but I didn't believe it till I was back on that train to London, I'd been given a reprieve of a few days for him to hopefully have an accident and get amnesia or something. There was one downside though; he had ratted to Kinders about my emails and Kinders had ratted to the blokes. So with my thumper of a headache I also had 7 tossers doing a running commentary about the state of my hangover. I'm sure I disappointed them when I finished the PE session, maybe a little bit green and breathing slightly harder than normal but I finished it and Kinders can tell the twat of a Captain that I managed; even after a day of drinking from 11am. So of course, they now can't wait till I meet the Captain.

"Come on over and join the lads, they're missing you decided that you're our lucky talisman or something" He puts his hand out to help me up but with a self satisfied smug look I get myself up, I need to squash any stupid notion that I need looked after 'cause I'm just a girl; in all honesty it's them that's 'gonna need to be looked after by me if it all goes shitting wrong.

"Yeah well that's because I'm the bleedin' medic ain't it" He just smiles at me as I lift my Bergen onto my shoulder and start to follow him. Smurf's cocky but he's alright.

"Possibly" His smug look continues as he stands proudly in front of the lads and nods his head in my direction "Here she is lads"

The rousing response I get is somewhat diluted from the one I got on Friday, probably because after the leary one I got then they were all bollocked by the Corp and told to behave. I have to say that already I respect Kinders, he seems to have the lads in order and not just by shouting; I'm sure they're a good team together and I'm lucky to be part of it.

"Dawes"

The snickering from the boys is to say the least childish as Corporal Kinders stands waiting on me to join him. "Captain James is free now" He looks at me, as I start to follow him, walking through double doors into another area he pauses, scratching his head, his face a mixture of amusement and concern as he waits for me to catch up "One word of advice, don't piss him off anymore. He's fair but he won't take any shit alright" The nod of my head seems to be enough for him as he starts our journey again.

"Sir"

Kinders steps aside, leaving me with a back view of the Captain, and it's not the back of a 5'6 height challenged Rupert, it's the back view of…...shit. fucking shit. Somebody is having a bloody laugh somewhere. No way. Do you know what? I'm seeing things, that's right my mind is playing tricks on me, I shouldn't be surprised really after all I've only thought about Charles for the last 3 months non stop. With relief that I'm only going mad I take the time to look at him subjecviley, well closer, and you know the arse is similar, sitting on top of long legs like two bloody perfect peaches, and his shoulders are wide a bit the same, the kind that you could stare at all day and have this urge to scrape your nails down but I can't be sure as I only saw his back without clothes on so i can't panic about that. Thank god, I'm alright it can't be him, there ain't no soft curls at the base of his neck, the curls that I had grasped in a moment of passion and … nope we're back to fuck fuck fucking shit. He's starting to turn in slow motion and I'm watching him turn, his face relaxed, interested in the Corp starting to introduce us before he looks down at me and his eyes widen a fraction, the lines at the corner of his eyes smoothing out as his face tenses before he pulls his gaze away and listens to Corporal Kinders though from what I can see he's not even looking at him, he seems to be looking somewhere over his shoulder. I take the coward's way out and look down at my boots, trying to get my thoughts into some kind of order.

Someone once told me that supposedly if your born in May you have the most chance of luck, big bleedin' surprise there that my folks managed to get up the duff at a rate that would impress rabbits and they'd managed to not have one of us bleedin' kids in May. I'd always accepted that good things tended to happen to other people, I was fairly happy with my lot in life, but this seemed to me just to be a kick in the fucking teeth.

I've had one night stands before, and to be honest I've been relieved when I've walked away, I've never wanted them to get in touch. They are what they are, a way for a quick release without emotional shit getting in the way but something happened to me that night, I'd gained a small bit of confidence that someone like him, who had a bit of goodness to them seemed to see something in me, I'd even shown him a wee bit of the real Molly Dawes, saying that maybe if i'd stayed the night he would have been quick enough to get rid of me first thing in the morning.

"Thank you for joining us at such short notice Private Dawes"

When I look up at the sound of his voice, watching those lips that a few months ago were clamped to mine making me feel things I ain't ever felt before he's obviously managed to get his emotions in check. I wonder what he's thinking, the eyes that had been so expressive that night now giving me no clue of what's going on in his head. "Sir" God, there is something so wrong with calling someone that you've slept with Sir, or maybe that's just me, I've never read the right kind of books. Anyway, What else do I bleedin' say? No problem mate great to be in your company again? Don't suppose there's a chance of a quick orgasm before we get on the flight? My new boots are already giving me blisters any chance of a piggy back?

Kinders is still wittering on, giving a brief summary of some of the medical issues with the platoon to me and Captain James. if I didn't know it already I do now that he respects posh boy as he automatically stands to attention when he hears that familiar clipped tone:

"Kinders could you ask Mansfield to come and see me before we get on the plane?"

I know that he's wanting to speak to me alone, and nothing is said as Kinders walks away, I'm that unsettled that I'm shuffling from foot to foot, watching as he shakes his head as if he can't believe it, his tongue works it's way round his mouth.

"You can't be in my chain of command"

The words are said calmly, a finality hidden in the tone and I'm sure he doesn't expect me to answer back "Please Sir" he looks down at me, a frown deepening across his brow "If I get sent back it's not gonna' look good" hopefully he gets what I'm saying, why should I get punished for something that both of us did "I need this chance, it was just one night and it's not as if it was ever gonna' happen again" I take a deep breath, as arguments go I'm not in a very strong position.

"No I suppose not" This time it's him that studies his boots before he looks at me, his arms behind his back, standing almost at attention in front of me. "The bloody emails Mo.. Private Dawes"

I feel my own back stretching, my chin jutting upwards as I wait for his decision. "I'm a good medic, Sir" One final plea before this all goes to shit.

"So I keep getting bloody told" He nods his head as if he's given it a final think, exhaling a breath before he signs my fate "If I have any issues or concerns, I will have no hesitation in sending you straight back. Understood Private?"

"Yes Sir" We almost stare at each other, as if neither of us want to be the first to look away till I remember the reality, who I am and who he is and I drop my gaze and square my shoulders. "Thank you Sir" Raising my eyes but not making the mistake of it looking like I don't respect him I watch him sigh before he turns and strides off. Instead of relief which I thought I'd feel, a weird feeling settles over me and I'm left by myself, my mind in turmoil. He remembered my bloody name!

Platoon photograph, and in case you're wondering, what with events of the day and all that my phone is still sitting in my Bergen at probably 1% now but that as I'm sure you can imagine is the least of my worries. I'm trying hard to keep my face neutral as we're given a Captain Charles James battle cry rousing speech his eyes never meeting mine, which is just as well as there is something fairly amusing about the word cockwombles coming out of his posh gob, or maybe it's hysteria on my part. It's only when he joins the line do I sneak a peek down, unfortunately whether he senses me looking or what I don't know but we look at each other. And that one look seems to last for ages and I can't kid myself on any longer he just looks angry before he breaks eye contact first and stares ahead.

Join the army, travel the world that's all you ever hear, well if it gets out that you're sitting on a shitting uncomfortable seat between two bell ends watching porn on their phones for over 7 hours it might not prove too popular. My arse can't take it anymore so I stand up and start to stretch.

Not for the first time I find myself looking over towards Charles, and as he's reading I take the chance to study him for a bit and I still get that funny feeling in my stomach, for once in my life I actually hope it's going to involve several trips to the bog rather than several months pining after something I've got no chance with, he looks up and catches my eye and again there's no emotion, it's not as if he's looking down on me, he just doesn't see the girl he slept with and it really hurts, he easily looks away first whilst I'm left staring. I try and squint to see what he's reading thinking it's maybe 'one night stands and how to pretend they never happened' and if it is I'm gonna' ask to borrow it but it's not it's something about Kabul, hopefully a travel book and he's planning on visiting it for a few months of our tour, well at least 6.

"You alright Dawsey?"

I turn to Smurf, glad that I can think of something else other than the Captain even for a few minutes of mindless chitchat "Bit gutted there's no movies"

"Or a drinks trolley"

"Or peanuts, I've always wanted to get those peanuts what they talk about in those films"

"First time flying?"

"Yeah can you tell?"

Crouching down I continue our conversation, though it's hard with the background noise of the plane to keep it going but we try. We both look up as the Corporal who is standing by the Captain shouts my name and points to my empty seat. I get up and sit back down trying not to let out a huff at the same time and when I look over I can tell that they are still talking about me, warily I watch Kinders heading over and I wonder what I'm gonna' get into trouble for now.

"Bossman says for your safety, just in case"

Boss boy more like, and just incase for what, I don't think sitting on a wooden bench is going to save me if we get shot out of the sky. Smurf just raises his eyebrows at me and goes back to watching his phone, I go back to trying to work out ways of building a tardis so I can travel back in time and not have shagged my boss, I'm only kidding myself to be truthful, I'd go back and work damn hard at school so I could have gone in an as an officer and then have shagged him, twice, a day.

It only really kicks in that I'm shitting actually going into a war zone when an hour outside of Bastion Captain Posh tells us all to put on our protective gear, the atmosphere immediately changes as the lads all become serious, no one is listening to music, or watching porn, everyone is sitting looking forward, not making eye contact as I suppose we all come to terms that this is it, what we have been trained for and some of us won't be coming back. I think I feel a bit sick.

The moment we step off the plane I wish i could watch the 15 minute orientation video shown to me before I was deployed again, at the time sitting in a training suite at Pirbright I couldn't get my head round all the politics and the culture but just feeling the immense heat as the cargo ramp goes down, the sand swirling in the breeze and seeing the landscape, well what I can make of it outside Bastion gives me my first proper sense of Afghanistan.

Turning to the side I look at each member of my section, again struck by how young we all are, even the Captain standing at the front, the oldest of us probably still under 30 well I hope so I'd hate it if I'd slept with someone ancient, though I would probably make an exception for him. He seems the most relaxed and when he turns, his helmet removed, his eyes scrunched against the sun as if he's doing a head count his eyes meet mine, briefly for a second, before I can persuade myself that his eyes softened towards me he turns towards Kinders and gives him some orders. From his body language I get the feeling he's pleased to be back here, almost as if he's home and his words come back to me from that night about the emptiness of his life and I wonder what his life is like, that someone from the outside who seems to have it all would be content to spend 6 months out here fighting a war that even someone as thick as me can tell that this late in the day we're not going to make a difference.

I really hope we're all here together to take the flight back home. It's going to be a long 6 months.


	4. Bleedin' Bastion

**I am sorry about the delay, unfortunately our transfer to BT infinity isn't going without it's share of broadband problems and I've had to type everything I'd worked on the computer into my phone - sorry for any mistakes! Thank you for all your support, it is most humbling x**

It's going fine, he hasn't noticed me. Can you imagine that I'm pleased that he hasn't noticed me? That's what happens when you're told to make your way to the female quarters and you get distracted by a Smurf, I fell for the 'give me 5 minutes and I'll give you a hand finding them' speech before he felt the need to fold his perfectly folded underpants as he puts them away incase we get a kit inspection - really? 1 hour and 30 minutes after we've got through customs or security or whatever it's called? I don't think so.

Saying that for a minute I might have made him right as the Captain came in, waiting until we were all standing to attention before he gave us the benefit of another of his rousing speeches. Though I want to give him a round of applause like some teenage groupie; I can tell that his speeches aren't that original, even the way that he's got one hand on his flak jacket and doing a catwalk strut up and down the tent is practised, bet he did it in front of a mirror at home. Mind you I probably only think that as I've seen a bit of an insecure side to him, the one that I met that night wouldn't of been comfortable lording it over people as he's doing now.

His eyes land on me fleetingly, an unasked question before he moves on. Speech finished, authority asserted and a threat tomorrow about a 5k run, nothing about the female in the tent full of males who was told that she had special arrangements; I'm a bit confused that he's not said anything as I watch him leaving with Kinders. When I look round, taking in everyone in the tent, Brains waits till I'm looking at him, exhaling a breath, raising his eyes in relief to me before turning his attention back to a story that Baz has restarted. The feeling that in some way the lads are pleased that I wasn't given a bollocking is reassuring, a hint that they're accepting me.

"Private Dawes" Kinders is standing at the entrance, the flap of the tent in his hand, his eyes taking in my kit at my feet "Captain James wants to see you"

I follow his line of vision to my kit bag and Bergen, watching with a sinking feeling as he nods, watching as I organise myself so my 5'3' frame can carry 2 bergens and a large kit bag, following him out the tent, unable to take in my surroundings as I try to work out what he needs to speak to me about "Why?" Kinders pauses as if he's surprised by my question:

"Don't know Dawes, he didn't say"

Great he's probably decided he's gonna' send me home, wouldn't surprise me at all. Molly Dawes tour of Afghanistan 1 hour; wonder if I'd still get a tour medal?

The tent we stop at is like all the others, green. I realise that I've been too busy worrying about this meeting to have a clue how to get myself back, Kinders just breezes in, I follow, my eyes adjusting to the dim light slowly until they can focus and instinctively find Charles, standing in front of rows of empty seats, studying a large detailed map, hands on hips. It takes a minute for him to respond with the luxury of clearing what's in his mind before acknowledging us and when he does it's just a head dip in my direction and a curt "That'll be all Kinders"

He waits until Kinders has left, his arms crossed as he still gives the map his attention "At ease Dawes"

I try but my shoulders are still up round my ears with tension, for a moment he looks at me, doubt for a second crossing his features "You alright?"

Okay I wasn't expecting that, unfortunately I can't answer him until I unstick my tongue from the roof of my mouth so I just nod enthusiastically.

"Everyone treating you okay?"

The pain of leaving a layer of my tongue on my upper palate is agony but I don't want him to get the impression that I'm the Churchill dog "Yes Sir"

"You've met Smurf?"

My nose gets scrunched up, an unfortunate habit I've developed, which is why I know he probably practises his speeches in a mirror, 'cause as a teenager I spent hours perfecting a confused look to hide when I actually knew an answer, didn't want the teachers to get the wrong idea. "Yes Sir"

He's moved so he's standing closer to me, hands in his pockets "I'm a tad, shall we say concerned about him" the look that he bestows on me immediately wants me to suggest that we should have kids together; an insecure but still alpha male confusion, his hands running through his curls. I don't say anything picking up on the vibe that he doesn't need questions, his explanation will be in his own time "his brother was a casualty of war out here, can't be easy" One hand reaches out to hold the back of a chair, his fingers flexing as if he's contemplating a thought, hand returning back to his pocket as he frowns "but as much as I've had no reason to doubt his professionalism as a soldier, his training record has been exemplary" the smile he gives me is as a Captain to his combat medical technician, on the positive side, it is respectful "I would appreciate if you had any concerns that you let me know."

The giggle that comes involuntarily from me makes his head jerk towards me, an interested look to see if I'm going to explain "Well I did just watch him check 6 pairs of identical regulation army socks Sir to make sure they were matched right if that's the kinda thing you're looking for"

His snort is real, it's not calculated only a reaction to something that he found a bit funny and I'm glad 'cause I did feel the need to try and cheer him up. "I can see your point, that is worrying but maybe something a little more...concrete than that" For a moment he grins at me, amusement lightening up his face before he sighs and drops my gaze, his mouth working out what to say, seconds passing before he looks up, this time his focus more intense, a bit like that night when we played at trains and tunnels except it's as if he's stopped seeing me "Look Dawes" his hands are removed from the pockets of his combats to be placed under his armpits as he goes back to crossing his arms, he looks even more uncomfortable than me which is worrying "You do know that I'm going to have to treat you the same as everyone else don't you? I don't have any personal feelings for you other than wanting you back on that plane to Brize, safe and in one piece"

"Yes Sir" Shit this hurts a lot, I didn't expect him to tell me anything else in fairness, I know he wouldn't look at someone like me but it's still stamping on my heart with his combat boots.

"And" great he's not finished, I'm waiting for him to tell me that he didn't enjoy that night or summit', a mask in place on my face so that he can't see how much I'm hurting "I presume that you don't have any feelings for me either?"

"Yeah of course" I'm watching him nodding, my answer has obviously pleased him and he's not taking enough interest to realise that my bottom lip might be wobbling a bit "if that's all Sir can I go and find my quarters?"

"Yes Dawes dismissed" And that is it, he doesn't look at me; his map becoming the focus of his attention again.

-OG-

"So let me get this right" I look at the lads, all of us sitting in the canteen as the dinner time rush goes on round about us, I'm the centre of attention for once in my life, a section of soldiers hanging onto my every word "You want me to sneak in and turn his map upside down?"

Fingers leans back, a serious expression on his face as he strokes the six o'clock shadow on his face, which is a bit of a coincidence seeing as it is six o'clock "Oh yes Dawesy, to become a fully fledged member of 2 Section, only fair"

"Why"

Kinders coughs, looking round us all as if trying to silently convey that he doesn't want to be part of this; but he does, he's been smirking ever since this mad conversation started.

"It's an initiation Dawesy" Smurf steals another potato off my plate, spearing it into his mouth with his knife and speaking with his gob full "We've all had to do it"

"What? To the Captain before we get sent out on deployment?" Eight squaddies clear their throat, a competition starting between them all as to who can do it the loudest before I bang my knife on the table, getting their attention back "And what if I get caught? I'm in enough trouble what with the emails 'n' all that"

This time they all go quiet, leaning in towards me, even Kinders gives up pretending that he's not part of it, all of them letting Fingers resume his role as spokesperson "You won't get caught, Kinders here" he unattractively sticks his tongue out at the Corp "Has told us that the Bossman is planning on doing a kit inspection at 19:00, and you Dawesy are in different quarters so the coast will be clear for you to enter the tent..." with his spoon he starts to enact the route I'll be taking "Proceed to the map board and turn it upside down... And then get your arse out of there" Narrowing his eyes he watches me for a minute, gauging my reaction. I don't want to do it, the last thing I need is to be bollocked by him again and I wouldn't put it past him sending me home what with him having no feelings towards me.

"Will he not just guess that it's me?"

"That's the brilliant part, he's never gonna' think it's you, you're in enough trouble as it is already"

"Did Brains think up this plan?"

I know the answer as Brains face screws up in disgust "Molls, if I came up with something it would be much better than this"

"Fair point" I'm not surprised something like this has come up, the sense of humour amongst squaddies is second to none, also the need to get one over the ruling classes. It's not the first time I've done something like this, last year we glued all the coins in our Commanding Officers change jar to the roof of his office and underneath his desk. He didn't take it well, the whe section was banned from weekend leave, mind it was hysterically funny at the time "Right I'll do it, but you lot had better not dob me in, alright?"

-OG-

It's 1am in the morning and I've been up for nearly 19 hours, finally my first day in Bastion is over and I'm walking through the now quiet corridors, the corridors that nearly 6 hours ago was evidence of the horrors of modern warfare. Looking around me I almost can't believe what I have witnessed, I can't even get the sounds out of my head. What makes it worse is I've trained, I've taken part in simulations and I know jack shit or I feel like I know jack shit, any confidence that I have is leaving the building in front of me. I stop when I see him standing there talking to a Major, I'm not even going to pretend to myself that he still doesn't intrigue me, even after our chat today. He catches sight of me and for a moment he returns my stare, then turning, finishing his conversation he comes over to me. He's got this thing down to a pat where he crosses his arms as if he's being defensive but his eyes pull you in and as he stands in front of me like that I just want to speak to him like I did that night, but I know I can't. He's obviously expected me to say something, that I'd been standing waiting to speak to him about something important rather than I just couldn't stop myself trying to work him out.

"Everything alright Dawes?"

"Yes Sir, I just wondered when you wanted to do the controlled drugs?" I'm in no doubt that it doesn't need to be him that signs off the morphine 'n' that with me, in all the training and exercises I've done it's been my NCO but I'm a bit traumatised with what I've seen tonight and he is the closest I've got to a friend out here though I'm not sure he would appreciate that idea.

He gives a thoughtful nod of his head "I'll get Kinders to do it with you tomorrow"

"Yes Sir" Well that will be my conversation over I and I start to walk toward the entrance, then I hear his voice, soft almost as if he's talking against his better judgement so I pause not looking at him but waiting, my head tilted towards him.

"It was a bad one Dawes, tough for your first experience"

I can't help it and turn, watching him coming towards me, or heading to leave I'm not sure, everything between us is complicated and I wish I could just scrub my feelings and treat him like any other CO I've ever had "Do you think they'll be alright Sir?"

He shrugs, coming to a stop beside me, looking at the charts on the wall as if he's reading the names. We both know that in the morning some of those names could possibly be wiped off, the end of a life; a name to be read by the Prime Minister before Parliament. The rest will be cleared by this time tomorrow as the injured are sent back to Britain leaving the board clear for more casualties to come in, there's no doubt there will be more. "Depends what you mean by alright Dawes" he looks down at me, his eyes soft, sad, too old for his face "but, they are in the best place and will be given all the support that they need and you've helped."

"Have I?"

"Of course you have, you've carried out the job you were trained for" He walks away from me, his hand running through his hair as he lets out a sigh, as if he's stressed out of his nut. I'm not following him; I'm leaving too but I feel as if I am, speeding up in the hope that it doesn't look like I'm behind him just so I can stare at his arse. It's then when I draw nearly level that I catch sight of his face, a bleak look defining his features.

"Sir, you alright?" I shouldn't of asked and he'll probably give me a row, I'll have ruined all the hard work I've done in the last 2 minutes of making things comfortable between us again. He doesn't break stride, his long legs carrying him down the sterile corridor as I rush on my much shorter ones to try and keep up, for a minute I don't think he's even gonna' bother answering me, it's only when we get to the exit that he pauses, his hand on the door as he takes a deep breath.

"I knew one of the injured, served with him before."

"What was his name"

"Jones"

"I was with him" I've got his attention again and he looks at me questioningly I wonder if the Major maybe hadn't been too forthcoming and I suppose patient confidentiality is just as important here as everywhere else. "Was more concerned that his dick was still there than he was missing a leg, says his wife will kill him if they can't have more kids"

His laugh is lovely, I've never forgotten it but it's good to hear it again to refresh my memory, his eyebrows raising in apparent relief "Yup that sounds like the sod"

Reaching outside I'm hit by the warm air, it was cooler inside which I'm not used to and my body shivers for some reason as I adjust to the heat after the air conditioning "someone's just walked over my gra...Shit a brick will you look at that" my hand connects briefly with his body, long enough to feel a brick hard abdomen as I look up at the sky "Jesus Christ"

"What?"

"Them stars, that's not real, why is there so many bleedin more out here. It's amazing"

"Christ Dawes I thought there was an incoming missile or something"

"Don't think I'd notice if there was Sir, it is bloody amazing thought isn't it" It is, I'm not exaggerating, I don't need him to agree with me either which is just as well as he's really quiet, I have never seen something so amazing in my whole life, it's as if the whole sky is covered in them and it brings back a memory, for some reason I feel the need to share it with him, grinning as I do "My old man once took me to a firework display when I was eight or something like that, I was more interested in the stars than the fireworks, even asked for a book on stars but nah still remember getting a Barbie doll with a lethal pin if you took it's head off, prob got it down the market for pennies, if he even paid for it." My childhood still amuses me the lengths my dad went to get money from my mum for the pub. "I still know shit all about stars, well I know they have names but I ain't sure which is which?" There's millions of the fuckers.

"Dawes" Maybe he's going to tell me what they're called, his voice has lost the authoritative tone of earlier, he can teach me and I can impress him with how quick I learn stuff, with a contented sigh I smile at him "Can you take your hand off my arm please"

As I do take my hand which I hadn't even noticed was wrapped round his forearm I notice how uncomfortable he is, his hands rammed in his pockets, everything in his body uncomfortable at my tactile touch and outburst. It makes me sad and embarrassed that I have that effect on him but maybe I'm just tired I shouldn't expect anything different really, I need to harden up. The silence becomes uncomfortable between us, I can't seem to persuade my legs to move even though I could still admire the stars from my quarters wherever they may be. Charles breaks the silence, a return to our respective roles "Dawes just piss off, remember you've got a 5k run in 5 hours, full kit"

Well I'll be going back to my tent and drinking my weight in water then "And there was me thinking I could get a day of sunbathing"

"Yes, because after all you are here for a holiday"

He does sarcasm very well but I've got thick skin, I've had to have "fully inclusive as well Sir, it's the nuts "

I stay where I am aware that he is walking away, I'm sure I've crossed boundaries I'm not meant to even talking to him out here, I'll pay with it for another bollocking whilst he tries to reassert his authority tomorrow.

"Dawes are you going to stand there all night staring at the stars"

Why is it that his voice alone can send shivers up my spine, I wrap my arms round my body trying to protect myself "No sir, I'm just waiting until you head off 'cause I ain't got a clue where my tent is".

"God, how did you ever get through basic"

I feel a momentary warmth that he's still here, still talking, to me"With my hard work and intelligence Sir and thankfully Pirbright ain't even a quarter of the size of this place"

"Oh and Dawes" When I turn, I can't make his face out in the darkness though I'm sure there is just his usual professional mask "Get some sleep, you look bloody knackered."

You know that weird homesickness feeling you get, well not that I've had it many times what with my shit home life 'n' that, getting away from my dad was all I'd dreamed about since his life hit shit street but I ain't half got it now, I just want a hug from my mum and for her to tell me everything's gonna' be okay. Shit I'd even settle for standing with my dad on our balcony whilst he smoked his lungs out and told me where I went wrong in my life for some sense of normality.

I try to copy the breathing of the other girls in the tent, all sounding like they are well in the land of nod but everytime I feel my body relaxing I think of him, and I give up fighting it, letting my mind remember what it felt like to be briefly in his arms, feeling secure and that I was where I should be before I fucked it up and left, 'cause if I'd stayed and talked then there would be a chance that I wouldn't be in this position now. There's nothing else for it I'm just going to have to keep my head down and get on with it, maybe just maybe he might find something in me to like. It's only by contemplating getting up to drink some water that I feel my body start to slip into sleep.

"Private Dawes"

"Private DAWES"


	5. Maps of your Life

**Thank you so much for your patience waiting for this chapter and all the words of encouragement. BT have very kindly mucked up our Broadband and though they admit that the fault is at their end don't want to do much about it, and on Wednesday when they say it will finally be fixed we will have been without for 23 days, that's 23 days of writing something on the computer, transferring letter by letter to my phone and then deciding that it's not right; repeat. . I feel that this chapter doesn't have much movement but I think they would both try to be professional, only we have an insight into Molly's head to realise that she is somewhat struggling with that at times, though she still is the brilliant medic that we all know and love. Hope you don't mind me changing slightly from the script, I can't do better than TG or all the other FF that's been written about this time. The nerves that I go through each time I decide that a chapter is ready to be posted is, I'm convinced, felt by all other ff writers, however all things as they say have a silver lining and the support from the OG world is amazingly worth it. Thank you from the tips of my toes.**

* * *

"Come on Dawes surely you can put in more effort than this."

I've got my own personal trainer running beside me, as I pound the compacted sand in the eerie early morning calm of Bastion, an already oppressive heat a hint of the blistering temperatures to be expected later in the day. His long legs keeping pace with my short strides which have become even shorter due to the 4k that I've already run as I try to acclimatise to running in a foreign country. I know you won't be surprised by this thought but he's a bit hot - in the good looking sense where as I'm a bit hot in the sweating in places I didn't realise was possible hot. "Trying Sir"

"Trying's not going to be good enough if you're getting shot at by a sniper is it?" He's the only man I've ever known who can multi-task, running and looking at me like I'm intentionally doing an impersonation of a snail on sleeping tablets. "Are you going to put your entire section at risk?" The lads to be fair to me are not that far ahead, Smurf and Mansfield taking up the rear, what with my ability to only run and stare straight forward, unable to even think of a witty retort as I try to dig deep I can see the occasional worried glance behind, mainly I presume due to them being unsure whether they will get bollocked for leaving me behind or waiting for me. I think the mood the Captain is in it would be both. "NOW COME ON" I wonder how you get to be so fit that you can talk without needing to break for breath every few seconds, and even raise your voice, it is impressive but I wish I was observing rather than being the centre of his wrath. Part of my dream comes back to me from this morning, my mind having treacherously persuaded me that instead of yelling from outside the tent he was actually beside me whispering sweet nothings in my ear. It weren't all perfect mind, there was a moment when I pressed myself against him; wanting to feel that masculine hardness but there was nothing there. I think that's what woke me up; a combination of being confused, disappointment and reality of Jackie my tent mate shaking me awake. I still have a lingering sense of disappointment as I cast unintentional looks to his groin whenever I get the chance.

1k to go, only 1k to go and then this hell will be over. My body is now coursing with lactic acid which is making it painful each time I take a pathetic step, I'm sure the Boss has increased the length of his stride, a psychological trick to get me to copy, up the pace just a little and it is working but my tank is soon going to run empty. The weight of my 25kg Bergen's pulling me back, fighting against my legs trying to stretch that bit further "If you want to head on Boss I don't mind, I'll catch you up"

"Keep your mouth shut Dawes until we're at the end unless you want to impress me with a sudden burst of speed"

"They did use to call me Flash at school" speech is becoming difficult, I think my throat's been cut off from my lungs, the painfulness of each breath making it impossible to speak a full sentence "Mind… that were more to do my talents… at pissing off as soon as the bell had rung 'n' …."

"Dawes I can hear you."

"Yeah well it might be better if you…. could see me and …. notice that I'm just a girl … unlike those wankers in front of me." He doesn't answer me, probably because I'm meant to be keeping my gob shut but I need some distraction from the effort of this, looking up from his nether regions which are quite frankly not giving me the information I need he's looking forward, his head shaking as if I've said something stupid. In all likelihood I will have but I know that I am 100% female so it can't be that.

"What and the Taliban will care just because you're a Doris?" His tone is clipped, brusque which is different to the motivational angry tone he'd used earlier, I know which one I prefer. I'll maybe keep of the subject of my fitness abilities.

"Do you think they're happy Boss?" To my left a group of American soldiers are heading back to their quarters, presumably from a night time mission, they're obviously weary yet you can tell that they're all happy about something, I 'spose they'd describe it as being pumped. "It's good to see ain't it?"

"The only mission that's important is our mission"

"It's like real life propaganda though" This is becoming impossible, I wonder if I collapse if the entire personnel of Bastion will just step over me all day "you only ever hear about the bad stuff." My hands go up to the straps of my Bergen to try and get it to move with me instead of against me, I have a sneaky suspicion that yet again he's manipulated me into taking longer strides. The legs that are moving my body are becoming increasingly shaky, the only thing keeping me going is my determination; I have a lot of that.

Overhead a chinook heads off, the vibrations of it being felt on the ground that my feet are painfully pounding. Tomorrow it will be us; our few days of assimilation will be over, already I feel as if today is passing claustrophobically minute by minute quicker than it should, the nerves of being out in an unknown FOB starting to kick in. "Shit….." My legs give up, or I've tripped over something as I've been too busy watching the helicopter, my hands instinctively heading forward to break my fall as the ground comes towards me in surprising slow motion. At first I can't work out what's happened as I feel my world righting again, a jolt of electricity through my upper body, the reverse journey of 2 seconds ago meaning that I'm back on my feet, continuing my session with no grazes or wounded pride. It's only when I look at him and meet his horrified glance, do I realise that he's saved me from falling and I could be wrong but I don't think he's happy about it, I don't even say thanks, returning to trying to make sure I successfully plant one boot in front of another, no words being spoken to discuss what had just happened, no explanation as he increases his speed, heading towards the front of the group leaving me alone at the back, confused and even more determined to finish the run.

Catching up, slightly behind my section but close enough that he didn't have to wait on my arrival to start issuing instructions, I fall to my knees, grateful to be able to rest as I listen to his words, take in the scenario of the situation he's created in front of me as Smurf lies there and try not to think of the hands of my Commanding Officer on my shoulder as he now stands over me. Waiting. Watching.

Smurf is lying getting his breath back, his hands behind his head as he reclines an intermittent groan his only contribution to the scene being played out, a lecherous grin appearing when my gloved hands start feeling his pretend 'blown off below the knee' leg for any further injuries. I talk to him as if the situation is real, as if he needed the reassurance of a voice to stop him slipping into a dark sleep, reaching for my radio, forgetting for a moment that none of us have our headsets on and that I can't update my CO and request medical attention, but we're working as a team as he crouches down beside me, assessing the damage too but allowing me to do my job "What do you think Medic?"

"Well apart from a severe case of crap acting Sir, I'd say he's gonna' be alright" It's almost a relief as I go through the checklist, reaching for my med Bergen for a tourniquet and bandages, a professional acknowledgment at the Boss as he pulls it closer towards me, I'm going to be okay I can do this stuff "I'll put on a tourniquet and then pack the wound Sir, if we get him medevac'd out asap he's got as good a chance as anyone"

"I think I need some of that morphine stuff Dawesy"

No doubt. It's amazing how many times I get asked for that, a plus point to being injured according to some squaddies and feeling like I've passed the test I relax slightly, allowing my mind to realise that this isn't an emergency that I can breath.

"Would you give him some Dawes?"

I punch Smurf in his vastus lateralis muscle as evidence of having injected him the much needed morphine, the dead leg that I have successfully given over the years to my younger brothers making his acting an awful lot better in my opinion "10mg to start off with I think."

The hint of amusement that had been on the Captain's face seconds ago disappears as he pauses half way to standing, the heavy Bergen on his back of no consequence to his balance as he questions my reply "You think?"

Obviously that's not a good enough answer, I suppose he doesn't want indecision from me when I'm dealing with one of his precious lads, and I understand that, expanding my answer "Well I would to start and if he had any difficulties breathing or I had any concerns, Sir, I'd give him some Naloxone, depending on prioritising who else was injured I'd do further vital stats, it would also depend how far away help was. My assessing doesn't stop after my original judgement Sir."

"Well good Dawes"

Halleluiah finally some praise, I'm just about to ask if he'll give me a gold star or a sticker or something when Smurf smiles at me, the lecherous grin of before returning, oblivious to the rolling of my eyes. "Sir, I think my breathing's starting to get a bit funny, mind maybe that's because you're near me Dawesy"

"Can I just say though?" They both look at me, a conceited look on Smurf's face as if there is even a chance that I'm going to suggest that I might have the same reaction to him, the Captain's face is harder to read as if he's worried that I'm going to ruin all my hard work, the unhidden pride of a few seconds ago carefully masked away. "If it was a Doris I was dealing with, then probably a couple of paracetamol would do 'n' a piggy back" Charles only raises one eyebrow in a silent challenge, I'm not sure if it's because I dared to mention the word piggy back in his presence, but it had been a slip up rather than an intentional reminder of that night and I keep the innocent expression on my face, after all it could also be because I had the cheek to quote him 'Doris' or undermine the greater sex, well in their opinion. Smurf is amusingly gasping for air like I've just insulted him personally and I can see his brain trying to think up a witty reply before the Captain interrupts, choosing to ignore me. The lads who had been standing about enjoying the scene in front of them standing to attention unlike me who from my position on the ground is still trying to get my breath back.

"Lads, shower and get breakfast. Briefing at 10:00 sharp, don't be late"

I would like to have stood up gracefully, but there's no chance of that, half my hair is sticking in my mouth and I need two hands on the ground to get the levity to stand up, the weight of my Bergen causing me to lose my balance as I try to stand on shaky legs, even to myself it's embarrassing never mind when he's standing with his hands on his hips watching. I'm learning one thing; he notices everything. "Is your fitness going to be a problem?" Jogging seems like a good idea, which might impress him. "What you going to do about it?" I don't answer, I don't think I can because I haven't got a clue, panic starting to well up about failing in the most basic of tasks. It's only when he sprints off, leaving me to break to a walk and then stop, resting my hands on my knees as I grab in huge precious lungful's of air do I admit to myself how much it means to impress him.

-og—

When I see him entering the porta-cabin my heart does that dippy thing like when you're on a rollercoaster. Following Kinders example I sit where I am behind the desk, all the medical files in front of me from my one to one with the lads as I nod my head in acknowledgment, the words 'Sir' falling silently from my lips as I try to hide the effect he has on me, it goes unnoticed with the relaxed atmosphere between us all. I wait, halting the conversation as he sits down, watching as he runs one hand through his hair, the action doing nothing to help the unsettled feeling in the pit of my stomach. He doesn't tell us to continue, picking up the reports, reading through them, his mouth twitching, finding something amusing as he scans, my heart in my mouth as he finds one in particular that grabs his attention, his eyes flickering up to me; I know which one he's contemplating as he questions me with his expression. He closes the file, his eyes intelligently looking at Kinders, assessing before he returns his attention to me, his face like an open book as he thinks something through before nodding his head as if he's made a decision. I presume he hasn't said anything of his concerns to the Corporal.

"You've not written anything about Smurf?"

"No Sir" My reply isn't confident, I'm still trying to word the report I need to do on Smurf, our chat having given me some concerns after my previous discussion with the Captain.

"Talk to me Dawes" He stretches in the chair, flexing his shoulders as if trying to get rid of built up tension, looking at him he gives the impression of calm, as if he's encouraging me to discuss my concerns.

"I don't know Sir, he seemed a bit…" I look at Kinders to gauge his reaction but his attention is fixed on Bossman, surprise written across his face at the turn of the conversation "I know what must have happened must have messed with his head but it was like that was why he was here, he..." Guilt is what I'm feeling, Smurf has been nothing but a friend to me, and it has been appreciated what with the situation with the man sitting across from me, but I am here to do a job and not discussing my concerns could be dangerous to the platoon and Smurf. "Talked about avenging his brother's death, that ain't right is it Sir?"

"Let's just hope that wasn't on his application form to join up." I try not to let my amusement show at the ironic expression he pulls as he reads back further into his soldier's medical history "Have you had any concerns Kinders?"

The confused shrug of the Corps shoulder is answer enough "No Sir, he's been exemplary, no concerns at all during his basic. Bit of a lad but who isn't?"

"The other 50% of the male population?" His answer is said as his hand is reaching across to me with the file in question.

"Probably more 5% in my experience Sir, just saying" My answer causes him to stop with the manila folder in mid journey, a smirk softening his features whilst he bites his bottom lip, I like when I amuse him, it's addictive.

"I presume Dawes that you aren't including your current company in your negative assessment of male species?" With a sigh letting me know that conversation is over he gives a definitive nod in the direction of the file which I've placed in front of me "Why don't you write 'due to previous bereavement of twin brother whilst on operation in Afghanistan, Private Dylan should be offered support and monitored for any further concerns."

That's why hes an Officer in Her Majesty's service and I'm just a Private "Shit his twin that is shitting crap"

"So Boss, will I just come to you with any concerns?"

Contemplating both answers, he chooses Kinders to reply to, leaving me wishing I'd kept my gob shut, he's still interested in both of us however as he exhales a breath, continuing to include me in the conversation as I watch the Corporal unsure if this will give me a black mark with my section. "Yes, if either of you have any concerns come to me. Obviously it doesn't need said Corporal, that until I have any concrete concerns that this discussion remains strictly between ourselves. I think Private Dawes has ingratiated herself enough into the platoon for us all to know where her loyalties lie." One James Bond eyebrow is raised in my direction and I feel my face flush, shit I thought I'd got away with it. My mind frantically runs through the earlier Mission Briefing; belief that someone else had noticed that the map had been turned the wrong way and had sorted it, nothing in his demeanour to suggest that he had clicked onto our little prank. He's watching me intently, waiting on what I don't know but guilt is getting the better of me, the inherent need to please him.

"Sorry"

Leaning across the table, he smiles but there's no emotion in his eyes as he looks at me properly for what seems like the first time since we've met again, his elbows resting on the medical-in-confidence records "I should think so, and just for the record Dawes, you're going to have to be a hell of a lot cleverer to catch me out."

"Yes Sir"

"Good" He gets to his feet, running his hand along his jaw with stubble that shows how long his day has been "Glad we've got that cleared up. I presume it's safe to say that it won't happen again." I nod, there's only so much yes Sir'ing you can do after all but it seems enough, it's obvious he's used to respect, it seems that it comes easy to him, that he was born for this role. "Well if that's us finished I think we should all hit our pit" I'm on my feet before he's finished, the habit forming of needing my kip to try and sort out all the feelings in my nut, he's out the door first any chivalry that I had been treated to before forgotten in our roles as I'm left to lock the information away in the secure briefcase for our deployment, switching off the lights as I leave the door, my last night of security in the confines of Bastion.


	6. New Friends

**We have broadband back - so a happy household. Thank you all for your continued support.**

"Morning Sir"

"Dawes"

As I walk towards him, heading for my early morning shower he's walking in my direction, sipping from his thermos cup, too late for him to make a last minute detour. I'm only acknowledged with the briefest of eye contact as he jumps down the few steps from the canteen area; his voice bored compared to my enthusiastic greeting. "Looks like it's gonna' be a nice day, might get a bit of sunshine if we're lucky" The peacefulness of the Fob at this time of the morning means that there's no interruptions to our conversation, but I can tell that he wishes he had the bustle of the lads about him and that the Afghan soldiers weren't at their morning prayer, he doesn't like to be alone with me, avoiding me wherever possible, never stopping to pass the time of day like he does with the boys and it's always as if I'm having a one sided conversation. A hint of amusement flashes fleetingly in his eyes, his tongue in the side of his mouth like he's trying not to smile. "Might look out my bikini"

Pausing beside me he looks up, following my line of sight, his eyes scrunching up against the sun in a 'can't believe she's still talking' way as he scrutinises the cloudless sky "News to me that the army provided regulation bikini's?"

"Yeah just after the regulation mankini's were such a success Sir"

He chokes on his coffee and when I turn to check to see if he maybe needs the heimlich maneuver or something he's shaking his head at me, a bemused expression on his face, his lips twitching and i think he's going to make a comment, instead he takes another step away from me, the mask returning to his face "Just go and get bloody showered Dawes, we're expecting a mail delivery"

"That'll be good for the lads" Nonchalantly I sort out my towel and stuff, rearranging it to buy myself more time to chat.

"What you not expecting anything?"

Unlike the lads I'm not getting my hopes up too much about getting anything in the mail, what with all the kids my mum has I can't see her having had the time to get stuff organised in the last week. "Well yeah eventually, I asked them to send me some ear plugs what with having to sleep in with the lads 'n' that but that were only when I just got here so doubt they've even got my letter yet" Sighing, feeling a feeling a bit traumatised about having to share, it's only been a few nights "I'm desperate for them too, let's just say they aren't the quietest when they're, you know Sir"

"No I don't know Dawes"

Surely he knows what I'm talking about and anyway there's no need for him to look at me like I'm trying his patience, bet you he's fine in his officer's accommodation. "When they're having a Thomas Tank Sir"

"Dawes. Go and get your shower. Now. Please." His tone is sharp, placing a finger on each eyebrow like he's got a headache.

"Straight away Sir" I'm not going to argue with him mainly because a scent, a male citrusy masculine scent hits my nose as he shakes his head, our brief conversation over as he strides away from me, not the smell of the aftershave he wore that night, but still I can't help but sniff the air like the bisto kid. I presume he has a better shower system than the one I'm about to subject myself to, he's probably just caught a whiff of BO, I practically have to use gymnastic positions in the small cubicles to wash off the shower gel with the pathetic trickle of water and don't even get me started on shampooing my hair.

The first few mornings I had this image of myself with a small towel round about me, my tanned legs and my hair artfully piled on top of my head before reality sunk in, Fingers nicked my razors because he'd forgotten his, I realised that my short towel brought me attention from everyone but the Captain and washing my hair was a task to be carried out as little as possible due to needing to spend hours untangling the badly rinsed shampoo out of my matted hair.

When I get home, there is no way I'm going to ever complain about the shower again, even in my house 5 minutes of hot water will seem like a luxury. There's a lot of things mind you that I won't complain about when I get home or even back to Barracks. Mind, some mornings a cold shower isn't a bad idea.

-x-

"You alright Quaseem?"

Our interpreter is watching the boys avidly, his face a mixture of amusement and confusion at their latest antics whilst in the shower, when I join him after my morning routine, sitting down next to him with my bacon roll, he turns towards me his kindly face welcoming "I don't think I'll ever understand you Brits". I could listen to Quaseem all day, his voice a soft lilt, a patience about him that means he spends hours telling me about the history and politics of Arghan. He averts his eyes as I lick some of my tomato sauce of my finger, meaning we're both watching as Kinders comes along and starts shouting at the lads because they're taking too much time, which for some reason we both find amusing. "Captain James said that we are going out on patrol again today, to the village"

"It's strange Quaseem, I can't wait to get back when we're on patrol, nerves 'n' that but I can't wait to go out and break some of the boredom, it's madness ain't it" I wonder if the Captain will come with us, he doesn't always. Think we all feel a bit safer if he's with us.

"It is no surprise you feel nervous Molly" He gives me a guilty look which is a shame, I wish I could say something clever to make him feel better but I can't only shrugging my shoulders, stating the obvious.

"It weren't you who was shooting at me"

"No, I suppose not"

"See, we agree"

It had been our last patrol when some wanker had decided to take a pot at us, well me. Bit rude of them I thought, you'd think they would have given us more than a day to settle in, I suppose it is war and all that, manners probably don't come into it. Anyway, for some reason my legs decided that it was best not to work, and the obviousness of my panic alerted the Captain to my panic. He nearly made me make a run for it till Quaseem pointed out for the 3rd time that they were targeting me and no matter how kind or how angry the Boss became I couldn't move, only managing when Smurf threatened me with shooting me himself if I didn't make a run for it. I was a bit pissed with Quaseem at the time but after I'd got my 'debriefing' from the Captain in putting the lives of the Section at risk by not taking too kindly to being shot at, he then took Quaseem in; the interpreter coming out afterwards and apologising. Ever since then we've become friends and his cockney rhyming slang is coming along a treat. Every cloud and all that.

We fall silent again, watching the lads now tucking into their breakfast, my attention caught by Captain James talking to Kinders on the periphary, for a second our eyes meet, the familiar ache in my stomach as he looks away, turning his back on us.

"You have been lucky with your Officer have you not?"

"You think?"

"Yes I think" Quaseem nods solemnly "He is a responsible man, he looks after you all"

"Spose for a toff he's alright" This conversation is allowing me the chance to observe him, watch as stands with his hands in his combats, deep in conversation with Kinders.

Quaseem touches my arm, getting my attention "Toff?" the word said under his breath as if he thinks it's not complimentary, making me start to giggle.

"I dunno' posh, rich?"

The Afghan puts his head back and roars with laughter "Ah you are funny Molly Dawes" For a smallish man he can't half laugh loud causing half the camp to turn and look at us, it's a bit embarrassing.

"It ain't that funny Quaseem" I go back to eating my roll, tucking my feet underneath me, a million and one thoughts going through my nut as I try to relax before we head out.

-xx-

"Remember to go for a piss Dawsey"

"Been thanks" I smile weakly, whilst flicking the finger at Baz as we wait to head out the gates, wondering if the Boss who's standing right in front of us would have heard that, I'm sure he did. It's alright for them, undo a zip, turn their back and water the sand where as if I get caught short, which maybe did happen 2 hours into our first patrol I've got to call in favours so I can crouch down in a ditch and relieve myself and listen to stories of soldiers getting taken out by IEDs or sniper's where they are pissing. Smurf promised he would make sure none of them looked but I'm not too sure that he didn't try to have a gander himself.

"Don't want the Taliban to use your bare arse for target practice do we?" I was going to say that Baz was the camp joker but I think they all are - lucky me!

"Right lads, focus in"

Immediately the boys all stop taking the piss and listen, it does amaze me how much respect he gets from all of us.

"We will be on high alert, as we should always be, nobody lose their focus for a second, we work together and we watch each other's back. There are Taliban out there who want to hurt us" His intensive brown eyes rest on me as he puts on his radio set, breaking away from giving me unexpected attention as he looks round 2 Section "That's not going to happen, is it?"

"No Sir"

His helmet is placed on, the severity of the situation in front of us clear as he takes command, turning and issuing instructions to us for loading up, the ANA waiting instruction to open the gates.

Our pace is slow, always slow, the risk of IED's too great to head at a normal pace, the line of us spread out, as we walk along the lowlands, the path below our feet baked with the sun, rough and uneven making our job of watching for anything suspicious even more difficult. The heat doesn't help either, the sun not even at it's highest peak, yet it's giving me a headache. You feel like a target, even here where there are no trees nearby, exposed, the hairs on my neck always raised as your sixth sense warns you that you should run, take cover. It's exhausting; I can see why the Captain was so up on his fitness.

A group is coming towards us, unidentifiable from this distance; it could be farmers or suicide bombers you're never sure. As the Boss puts up his hand we all stop, raising our guns, our fingers hovering on the trigger, I've yet to fire in self defence but I know that one day I will.

The Boss takes out his binoculars, focussing on the impending group, all of us holding our breath, waiting till he speaks "Looks like it is just the kids but stay focussed" a peculiar sense of calm settles over us even though we're not out of danger yet, he's still watching, all of us waiting on an instruction. "Move on"

"Bloody kids" Everyone laughs halfheartedly at Nude-Nuts joke, too weary but glad of the opportunity to break some of the tension.

"Right everyone, let's take a break"

I'm kicking my legs, trying to ease off some of the tension as we wait on the area surrounding us to be made clear by Kinders and the Valon, a groan of relief when he gives us the all clear. Shrugging my bergen off, I can't tell you how good the air on my back feels, almost like someone has turned on the air-conditioning, I think we all feel the same as we stand allowing the wet patches on our back to dry in the heat, gulping down water like it's going out of fashion. Sitting on my back pack I study my boots as all the lads take a piss, I'm fine, ignoring the slight pressure on my bladder, mainly 'cause there's no way I'm going to relieve myself out here with the boss about.

Smurf's the first one back over from their temporary pissing station, still doing up his zip as he reaches where I am, sitting down next to me, "You wonder how many kids out here gets blown up with an IED, don't you" we both watch the children getting closer, he lights up a cigarette, blowing the smoke away from me as we both contemplate his question.

"One's too many ain't it"

He nods in agreement, the end of our chat as the rest of the group join us.

"So Dawesy, what's yours?"

"Eh" I ain't got a clue what Mansfield is talking about, his reply is to do some kind of funny walk or dance I can't make up my mind which. "Still ain't got a clue?"

"Your dancefloor walk, the walk when you're heading towards the dancefloor?" Baz behind him is, I presume, doing his. My face must tell him what I'm thinking at his example as he stops looking crushed, to be truthfully honest it's a bit on the poncey side.

"I don't have one of them mate, I walk to the dancefloor and that's only if I'm forced, dancing ain't one of my strong points" I'll need to learn to eek out my water more, realising I've drank more than I should have, the words sip not gulp come back to mind.

"What about you Sir?"

Without thinking I look towards the object of Mansfield's question to find him scrutinising me, a reflective look on his face for some reason, then he slides his eyes away, fixing his gaze on Mansfield "I wouldn't know, too much drink is the only reason I'd be seen on a dancefloor" The lads laugh at the wince of pain he finishes his sentence of with, until everyone's attention is taken up with Smurf, trying to twerk as he walks backwards, a surreal sight against the backdrop of the mountains and the soldiers ready for combat.

"I' bet you Sir" Smurf stops mid gyration, a smile on his face "That you'd be all smooth, just a casual sway to your hips you know like…. uh here we go" Smurf stops, securely tucking his gun against him as the kids get within reach of us, thank god he did because I might have pissed myself laughing, he was scarily spot on.

All of us stand, groaning as we put our Bergens back on, clutching our guns, not that we would shoot a kid but an unconscious need to feel them near us, couldn't be anything worse than a kid returning back to the village with an SA80 in their hands; oh yeah there could a daddy Taliban with an SA80 in their hands.

The Captains the first to put his hand up as the group of 4 kids put up theirs in return and high five him, his stance relaxed and a genuine smile on his face, taking out pens to give them, I'm watching avidly, it's almost like a slice of normal playground life, their giggles and shyness endearing. "Dawes have you any spare pens, I'm out here" he shouts over, watching me as I walk over, a thoughtful expression on his face as he waits, affirming with his head who hasn't received a gift yet. Taking the couple of pens out my front pocket I hand them over, I've done this before thanks to the Bossman, he had told me that it was a hearts and mind mission, our chance to get the kids to trust us and I'd made sure I'd brought enough. One girl lingers, not joining the others as they head over to the others.

She's different, something more grown up about her. I can't work out her age, sometimes she looks younger but then there's other times like now when there's something else in her expression, an almost haunting that shouldn't be in any kid's eyes. As if she can't believe I'm real she reaches out, her fingers touching my gloved hand before covering her mouth with her colourful scarf as she laughs, a clear joyful sound that sits more with her age. "I'm Molly" My hand goes out to her, I wait patiently, her body language has become timid as she cowers slightly away, I make sure I keep smiling. When I start to worry, wonder if I'm doing the right thing I turn to Bossman, taking confidence from the nod of his head, wishing that whatever has put the proud look on his face had been me.

"Bashira"

The gentle voice surprises me, and I look down at the small hand in mine, something strange about my army regulation gloves beside the smooth skin of a child.

"I think you've made a friend Dawes"

"


	7. It's All Happening Now

**I would really like to thank Jenmc and Bananagirl (who's writing I'm still missing) they have as always been incredible and wonderfully supportive as friends as well as proof readers. I'm sorry I've not updated Invincible, all i can say is just life getting in the way but hopefully soon, I know where I want to go with it but unfortunately it's never right on paper.**

I've cleaned my rifle. I've done a stock take. I've bonded with the lads by cutting out a batman sign and putting it on a sunbathing Dangleberries back. I've watched the Boss doing weights and helped him shower afterwards - okay that's a lie. I'm now that bored that I'm sitting in the front of a troop carrier with Smurf. He's giving me a driving lesson.

"You need to check your mirrors first" If any bodies panicking we don't actually have the keys for the vehicle but it was open so we took the opportunity and I've been well warned not to take the handbrake off. "First gear and feel for the bite, good, let the clutch go and press down on the accelerator…" I think he's enjoying this, he's got one arm out the open window and is leaning across with the other to help me steer the immobile truck. "Take it easy Dawsey, good and second gear, that's it…" Out of the corner of my eye I can see him leaning back, rolling his shoulders, the hand out the window drumming an imaginary beat against the glass, I can sense his contentment from where I'm sitting so I turn and smile at him as he nods his head taking a glance out of the window "Don't you just love Newport?"

Well that wiped the smile of my face. "What?"I ask incredulously.

"Newport, we're driving through Newport"

"No we bloody ain't, we're in bloody London, we just passed the Palace" I look out my window, taking in the dust covered FOB in the middle of nowhere, the dust covered Fob that has become our home, soldiers going about their daily business. I can see the ANA lads all sitting outside their tent the usual interest in a game of touch rugby some of the lads are playing, and go quiet, it strikes me as odd that I wouldn't want to be anywhere else. When I take my eyes of the stationary landscape in front of me and look at my friend, he's watching me, giving me a wink like I should be honoured, as if. He's using his 'Smurf Swagger' as the lads call it voice.

"We've just passed my local and you knows it Molls." His voice becomes excited "Hey will we stop off for a quick pint, I could even take you and introduce you to my mam, she'd love you, mind don't get your hopes up I'm not sure if I'm ready to settle down yet."

I gasp with indignation "Piss off Smurf why on earth would I want to meet your ….. shit Smurf" A loud screeching noise has started, both Smurf and I start jabbing at the dashboard, not wanting to get caught having done anything to the troop carriers, the Engineers blokes are a tiny bit scary and let's not even mention our CO….

"Shit what did you do Molly, what the fuck did you touch" He shouts at me, then for some reason starts winding up his window as if that's going to help.

"What the fuck did I do what the fuck did you do more like you nobber, I can't see any fucking buttons never mind having pressed…." Abruptly the noise stops and Smurf and I look at each other, panting, I think we've maybe forgot to breath. "Actually" I say taking a deep breath, pausing "I think it was the truck next door" Looking a bit sheepish I watch the guys working on the vehicle next to us, checking the alarm system.

"Yeah, that's what I thought" The wanker is being serious as he rolls the window back down, settling himself back against the seat. "Just don't touch anything again"

Taking a deep shuddering sigh I place my hands back on the steering wheel, crunching the gear back to the middle bit. "I think I'm a bit of a natural at this"

I get the feeling that Smurf ain't as used to getting into trouble as me and the thought of being on a charge for damage to some vehicle is too much to bear, but like a trooper he clears his throat, his voice a little shaky as he points ahead "Just concentrate on the road Molls, first rule of being a driver never be distracted by your passenger" He rests his arm along the open window, whistling a tune I can't name "Okay we're on a straight stretch of road, up to third gear Molls, smoothly good and fourth, keep your eye on the road but you can relax a bit now" I give him a cheeky confident grin earning myself a hard punch on the arm "So you getting any further forward with the Boss?"

Obviously the lads have noticed that things ain't all that great between me and bossman, it's getting better but it's still way off how he is with his wonderful lads. "If you mean does he appreciate my charm and magnetism then nah?"

"Who does?"

"Not funny you bellend" I do a pretend emergency stop to prove a point but he's still got a stupid grin plastered on his face, "Anyway I'm sure he does, he's just not allowed to show it what with him being a Rupert 'n' that. "

"Tell me Dawes do you have a Driving Licence?"

Bloody creeping jesus, he doesn't look very happy leaning in the window, – no surprise there "No Sir"

"No I didn't think so" I watch like a rabbit caught in headlights as he opens my door, no sign of amusement at the fact I almost hit my nut off the roof whilst shitting myself at the sound of his voice, his head jerks to the side, I presume to tell me to get out, sometimes he's not very good with words. "Well then, you should maybe remove yourself from this property of the British Army and in future ask permission to play in it" Other times he's very good with words.

Meekly I jump down, standing to attention next to him. "Please Sir, can I play in the troop carrier?" I ask hopefully, looking up at him as he stares down at me, his eyes are doing that intense thing that I know means he ain't happy with me.

"No Dawes you can't. Med tent 5 minutes"

"Can I just say Sir?"

He's turned away from me with an impressive turn on his heel, my words stop him, his shoulders being raised as he lets out a sigh as if he's bored, he's moving away again as he speaks "As I said Dawes, med tent 5 minutes"

"Yes Sir" Thank god I don't fancy him anymore.

"You checking out the Captain's arse again Dawsey"

"No" my face is reddening and I angle it away from Smurf but I can hear his snort of laughter and when I turn he's lounging like a cocky git against the side of the truck, having gotten away without a bollocking unlike me "And if I was, I would just be seeing if there was any chance we could surgically remove your head, what with it being stuck up there all the time"

"Jealous of the fact the Captain likes me are we?"

"Jealous, of the fact you think that posh git has any loyalty towards us, I don't think so" Straight away I know that something's wrong as my Welsh friend loses his good natured grin and starts to walk away from me, his short legs going nineteen to the dozen, if I didn't feel a bit bad it would be comical "If I've said something wrong Smurf I'm sorry."

"You don't know him Molls, that man…"

The emotion seems to be too much for him to continue the sentence as he storms off after a final Oscar worthy finger point in my direction. I'm left in the middle of the dusty compound with only a vehicle for company. "Smurf come on mate" I look round checking that I've not drawn attention from anyone else, looking back to see Smurf has stopped and is looking at me, not the hurt expression I'd expected but anger, a sneer as he comes towards me, stands in my personal space and raises his voice:

"If he hadn't crawled on his belly to get my brother then he'd still be out there with the fucking Taliban, we would never have got to bury his body, don't ever talk about Captain James like that again in my company".

I only nod, not wanting to make the situation any worse, taking a tellin' as my dad would have said. "I'm sorry Smurf" I don't think it's enough as he storms off, putting as much distance between us as possible.

-xx—

The med tent is normally my sanctuary, my little piece of calm in the sometimes madness of the Fob, even though it can be boring to the point of tears here you're still never alone, always someone claustrophobically about, but here in my tent I can usually breathe until one of the Tosser's needs me again. Today though, he's in there and I feel a spasm of resentment as I push the flap open, ready to face the music. The sight that greets me is far different to what I expected, his lithe frame sitting on top of the bed as he watches my entrance warily, hands resting on his hips, his boots and socks off.

"I need you to check my Blisters, I don't think an Elastoplast is quite cutting it" His feet are a mess, angry blisters on his ankles where his boots have been rubbing, burst sores on his heels that look a step away from becoming infected; one things obvious he's put off seeing me, wincing as I gently touch them, trying to work out the best way to get him sorted as soon as possible "I think they look worse than they are, they're really not that painful" his excuse is pathetic; he's not kidding either of us.

"Whatever Sir" I don't know how to make it better with Smurf other than rewinding the last 5 minutes, not making the stupid comment to hide my true feelings, and getting myself in this mess. I bet you he'll be telling the lads, it's still early days and with the influence of Smurf he could easily turn them against me, worst is, I've got myself into a corner, the last thing I can do is go to Kinders and tell him that Smurf's not talking to me because I dissed the Captain, not that I'd do that anyway but it is all a bit shit. The bossman clears his throat, briefly interrupting the silence as I get everything ready making sure I don't mess up as I place everything carefully next to him on the bed.

"You alright Dawes?"

"Yes Sir" It's also a bit hurtful that he never came and asked me to check his blisters before either, 'cause they must have been sore, you don't do patrols of 10k with feet like these and not be in any pain. Just shows what he thinks of me.

"You sure?"

"Yeah" And never mind the daily PE session's he makes us do, frequently with him at the front shouting over his shoulder that we're not putting in enough bloody effort. It's weird touching his feet after all this time, it was probably the one part of his body I never got a good gawp or feel at, how kind of whatever shitting god that there is that he's now letting me get up close and personal, giving me that strange tug in my gut as I kneel on the floor, his long legs making it more comfortable than sitting on the stool, hah kneeling at his feet, how bloody apt: I really don't think my life is funny.

"Dawes"

I'd forgotten how he liked me to tell him everything that I'm doing, bet he wishes his last medic was doing this, I'm sure he would have trusted him, gone and seen him as soon as he had felt the first bit of discomfort "I'll put a dressing on the ones that ain't burst Sir but I'll need to drain and wash those that have already popped then I'll put a hydrocolloid dressing on those or maybe a zinc dressing would be better" I should really be telling him that he shouldn't be wearing his boots for the next few days to avoid pressure on those areas, but I can't see that happening, and how embarrassing is it going to be when he tries to get out of coming back every day so I can check them.

"DAWES"

"Sorry I'm just not 100% decided 'cause they're pretty bad Sir, really I should be telling you to rest for the next few days" The sigh he exhales touches my skin fleetingly,the hairs on my face fluttering, a strand of hair taking moments to settle back again, I don't know if it was so nice because of the shitting hot day it is or just that it was his breath; actually I do. "I only said I should tell, I didn't say I would make you."

"Dawes…." He says it softly, causing a reaction at the back of my eyes which I blink back before looking up at him, his eyes are soft, a painful memory comes back of lying next to him whilst he looked at me like this. "Are you alright?" I nod, unsure of what he would say if I told him exactly what was wrong "You haven't made one wise crack in the last 2 minutes?" The chuckle that he does is different to the probing look that's trying to work out what's going on, I dip my head back down not wanting to be read, getting on with my task.

"You'll need to come back and see me" I stand up, fleetingly looking at him, but it's too uncomfortable, I need a hug badly, like I ache for one, for someone to tell me that everything's going to be okay, so I do the only thing I know and go back to staring at the floor "I'll leave it up to you when you want to come back but I'll give you some dressings that you can apply yourself if they start to leak, you'll need to keep them as dry as possible Sir" I go back to his feet, taking care to spray a liquid bandage over some of the smaller blisters that aren't too bad.

"Oo now I really am concerned" He's got his arms crossed defensively, his tone bordering on annoyed, this wasn't how I wanted to be at the centre of his world. "Is there something wrong Dawes"

"It's fine Sir, everything is fine"

He nods his head, clearly not believing a word "Right well, I'll maybe pop by tomorrow, get you to give them the once over"

"Good idea Sir" I manage to keep my voice level, eye contact neutral as he stares me out, for the first time it's him that looks away first, leaving me to turn and start tidying up, an uncomfortable atmosphere as I work round him, waiting for him to leave.

"Mission briefing at 14:00 hours,"

"Yeah Kinders said Sir" He's standing at the flap of the tent, I'm sure there's something else he wants to say but he doesn't, his gaze travelling over me, an exhaled breath as if he's resigned himself to my strange behaviour, you'd think he'd be glad that he wasn't having to pull me up for my usual cheek. "Right. thank you Dawes"

-xx—

The journey to the mountain pass is slow and uncomfortable, the troop carrier moving slowly, My bones ache from the constant jarring of the rough path, that will soon end and mean that we need to get out and walk the last few km's to the mission. Sitting at the end means that I can look out the window at the blackness of the night, watching the stars whilst I accept that I'm not part of their conversation, that until they let me back in I'm not part of the team. Bossman has stopped watching the dynamics, his interest failed what seems like hours ago, it's a relief and he's right if I'm not willing to say anything then he shouldn't get involved, it would just make it worse for me and anyway I'd be mortified if he found out that Smurf had fallen out with me because I'd slagged him off.

We have to wait when we reach the furthest point the troop carrier will go, the rest will be on foot but we need to wait till it's dawn, too unsafe for us to proceed until we have better visibility. This landscape is different to what I've seen before, everywhere there is cover for insurgents; large rocks and vine trees for the Taliban to hide behind, the mission isn't important enough for us to proceed with our night vision goggles, thank god they give me a bleeding headache and the batteries are never that great anyway, probably run out in time for me to trip over a boulder or anything. Some of the lads have got out, staying close to the safety of our transport, it takes me 20 minutes till I get bored of the oppressiveness of being excluded and leave them too it, finding some solitude sitting on the footstep of the passenger side door. It's so quiet just now, the whispered conversations of the lads, with an occasional shush from Kinders or the Boss if they get too loud. Dawn is starting to break, the sky lightening up and I hear the first chirp of a cricket, bringing a smile to my face till I hear footsteps, holding my breath and hoping that it's not Smurf coming to have a go at me again but they stop and I go back to appreciating the scenery round about me, my eyes keep going to a single lone star in the sky. It's still cold, well 7 degrees, but compared to the heat of the day it's freezing, a morning dew casting a sheen over the ground in front of me. I wish I had a camera, I wish I could somehow record this view. I wish I had a friend out here.

"That star is Venus" His voice is clear, maybe the increased light is making him less jittery of there being a risk of us being targeted, his attention on the sky, his hand on his vest, finger tapping as if he's nervous. "It's always the first to appear and the last to be seen, they call it Earth's sister planet as there's similarities. What's going on Dawes?"

The question at the end catches me by surprise, keeping quiet till he comes along beside me and drops down till he's crouching still a respectable distance between us but allowing a normal level of conversation, it's just as well he's close because he wouldn't have heard my whispered apologetic explanation "I slagged you off. He was saying that…." I'm mortified having to tell him this but I'd prefer it came from me rather than him, and I get the feeling he's going to try and find out one way or another "Anyway I told him that you wouldn't have any loyalty to us, I didn't know what you did for his brother, he's pissed off at me and obviously told the lads. And as you can see they're sending me to Coventry. Sorry Sir"

"Ahh" A swallow swoops down, not realising that we're there, neither of us move, watching, I take a moment's comfort from it, maybe it was in the East End before it migrated "I'll have a word with Kinders" He stands up to leave, no other words, no questioning about why I would say that but I know it would make it worse if he tried to sort it out. That's not how it should work in the army, unless it was serious bullying, rather than them just trying to put me in my place.

"Please don't Sir, I'll just take it on the chin, maybe one day they'll forgive me, eh"

"Okay but if it doesn't sort soon then I'll need to deal with it, we can't have a division in the section." Backing away, watching me nod he waits until he's level with the rear of the truck  
"Right lads, first light, let's make a move. Remember minefields down there, take care"

-xx-

The water is turning red; as if I've swirled some food colouring to make an artistic design but I ain't, it's blood, dark red blood of my uniform is turning the water a crimson red. My hands are shaking, I want to be sick but I'm immobilised; images running through my head, flashbacks of sounds. The dip I'm sure this is what they call it, I can't hear my heart pumping anymore and for the last 4 hours it's been a constant reminder that I'm alive, I remember that they talked about this in training, when the adrenalin surge ended and your body had to go back to normal, leaving your blood sugar low, not that the science is helping. What can help when you think you can't save your mate, when you think might die and the only image that flashes through your head is that face, that voice ringing in my ears as he argues with me to not go up in a helicopter as he doesn't want me to die, to feel in that moment that I'm worth something to him but having to risk it because I know I couldn't live with myself if I didn't. I feel tears springing to my eyes, and I want to let go, to sob but I can't, I'm not alone here, I don't want anyone to see my breakdown.

"Leave them I'll do it"

For the second time today I don't do as he asks, yet again I can't but this times it's because I'm not in control, my hands stay in the water, the sound of the blast that threw me into the air echoing in ears; the thought that my parents would read that letter that I never wanted them to receive, no matter how much I thought they'd let me down or doubted their love to me. His hands, those fingers that I've thought of doing lovely things to me wrap round my wrists, tugging them gently out of the spoiled water. Everything about him just now is gentle, his voice, the pressure of him against me but he's still solid and comforting; a contradiction - he's everything.

"It's normal, well not normal that you're washing clothes with your friends blood on it, normal how you feel. You did well today Dawes"

"Yes sir" I still stand there, habit and formality over ruling my confusion. "I'm sorry Sir"

"What for" He's emptying out the basin and I try not to watch as the red liquid is absorbed by the sand, my mind trying to take in the clean clear water he's pumping in as a replacement but already as he's adding powder can I see the tinge, his face however is scrunched up in confusion. You can see his mind trying to work out what I'm talking about.

"For slagging you off to Smurf"

His hands still but unlike me he's still calm and in control, his eyes fixed ahead, towards the shower block, not that anything is happening there. The area clear, he looks at me out the side of his eye "I know how hard this must be for you Molly, I don't know if the situation was reversed that I would be acting as maturely as you have. I appreciate that you've not told anyone."

"Yeah well I know you made a mistake" God what's happening to me, it's like there is a truth drug replacing the chemical rush "Knew that on the night actually"

"We're not having this conversation Dawes, not here"

"Yes Sir, but I'm just saying I wouldn't ruin your tour or your respect with the lads just 'cause you'd made a mistake, that would be wrong"

"Dawes" He's determined, shaking me out of my confusion "once you've had time to process everything I want you to get some bloody confidence in yourself okay. We'll do a debrief with Kinders and the Major tomorrow."

"Now piss off and get yourself a coffee or whatever you drink and don't tell any of the lads I'm doing this or I'll never live it down"

"Thank you"

"No Dawes. Thank you. For saving Smurf" He says it in the same tone that he'd used in the hotel room and for a moment, just a moment we're on the same page and though I know I'm kidding myself I do get a moments hope that maybe, just maybe, but I can't put into words anymore than that, because it means too much to me.


	8. Drinking Tea

**Thank you so much for all your lovely comments on the last chapter, the whole 1st person is, I'm finding hard to write, I hope it's not too hard to read! Also because I'm not even attempting to write the wonder of TG's descriptive filming and the wonderful FF writers before me who i couldn't even attempt to interpret, I'm aware that this is sitting in between anything. Anyway hope you enjoy my take on the in between scenes :) You are all stars xx**

The small glass cup of chaay beside my large travel mug of tea, breakfast for Quaseem and I, time to relax before we head out on patrol. I'm settling into life in the FOB, a strange kind of normality to my days, routines forming, feelings of homesickness dispelled somewhat. For the first time in my life I've got an interest in learning, the challenge of a difficult language. I have to give credit to the calm patient teacher in front of me, giving me the confidence that I can learn enough to show the Afghan's that I meet when I'm out on patrol that I respect them enough to embrace the local dialect.

"Feck?"

Okay, learning Pashto was harder than I thought, for christ sake Rome wasn't built in a day 'n' all that.

Quaseem has his head to the side, waiting on an explanation for this latest word. Everyone knows that you learn the swear words first, I've already told him this, that it's the proper way to learn languages, but he refused to swear when I told him about our good old British curses, so I'm going undercover.

"Yeah it's Irish for when someone's an idiot or what they might say eejit. Feckin' eejit"

He's not believing me, I can tell by the sparkle in his eye and the soft laugh that accompanies the rise and fall of his shoulders, mouthing it silently, seeing how it feels to pronounce the words. Part of him I'm sure is liking the sound, looking round the small canteen area his eyes focus on someone "Touran James". I half turn to see our Captain walking over, his coffee in hand, I'm not sure of the response I'll get, I've been a bit, shall we say in the bad books. I try not to stare or blush still embarrassed about my minor bollocking the other day "Feckin' eejit? It is, is it not an idiot in Irish?"

James sits, straddling the bench seat as if physcologically he's half in and out of the conversation, his eyes meet mine, a smile in their depths as he mulls the question over, no hint in the dark depths that he's still annoyed with me, I can't look away, nothing unusual there "Indeed Quaseem, it is an Irish colloquialism." He doesn't look away either.

"See told you. I can speak loads of languages" I almost shout, a burst of excitement that he's going along with me, not that he's ever excluded me, I'm learning lots about him and importantly he always does the right thing, it's important to him which is why the last few days have been dreadful with that hint of disappointment I've seen whenever he looks at me. Saying that, I don't think I'll ever forgive him for dumping all the lads combats in a pile and telling me that seeing as I was concerned enough to put my life in danger reuniting a scarf with a girl I could spend some time getting it out of my system by 'returning everything to the appropriate person'.

"Cockney and Irish slang Dawes, I'm not sure if you should be putting that on your CV"

We had been doing this before, the days after Smurf had been injured as if he realised that I needed that bit of support, in a winding me up way, truth be told I like him taking the piss "Yeah well I can understand you, can't I, maybe I should add that to the list" Turning to Quaseem who's watching us, his eyes flickering between us "Fluent in Cockney, Irish slang and Sandhurst"

"You can understand proper English but unfortunately you can't speak it, fluent is maybe pushing it slightly?"

"I bleedin' can speak it I just unlike you don't like showing off, I was brought up to believe that showing off was bad manners." I smile at our interpreter to let him know that I'm winning this "Anyway." I clear my throat, sliding my legs round so I'm ready for a quick getaway, looking at Charles out of the corner of my eye, a warmth in my tummy as I catch him sharing a smile with Quaseem "Enough of this mindless discussion, one has work to do."

"Just a minute Dawes"

Great, just when I thought I could leave it on a good note "Sir"

He doesn't speak, his eyes following Quaseem as the gooseberry in our relationship makes his excuses, not wanting to be part of the discussion between Commanding Officer and Private, leaving us alone in the area, the lads all making out in the gym.

"Have you learnt your lesson"

See, it's a tough one 'cause after all I would probably do it again. We hadn't long had a conversation about the importance of culture and he had put the shitters' up me by talking about the Taliban and that they would beat woman if they didn't follow 'their' rules. Tell you what, the difference in the upbringing here makes me bleedin' ecstatic to be from deprived East Ham. "Yes Sir"

His laugh is what they'd call disbelieving, his head shaking as he swirls his mug round "Do you want to try and sound a bit more genuine than that?"

I watch him, he's turned so he's copying my body language, both of us facing forwards "It's just" complicated, but putting it into why it's complicated is difficult for someone like me.

"Spit it out Dawes"

"I'd do it again Sir, well I'd tell you obviously" My hands are interesting, the broken nails with the dirt underneath that no matter how I try I can never really get rid off "I've learnt that, but if she hadn't been talking to me then she wouldn't have dropped it would she?"

"You can't be responsible for someone else's actions okay?" There's no arguing against his tone "Don't get involved"

"You said it was Hearts and Minds" Petulantly I reply to him, the childish tone in my voice making me wince.

Sighing he runs his hands through his hair "Fighting a war by yourself is impossible" his knee bumps against mine, whether by design or because he was changing position I don't know but as always my body reacts, "I wish it wasn't, everyday I wish I could make a difference but we can't" Hands go onto his thighs, unfortunately not mine but his own, straightening his back, stretching the length of his spine, I can tell that our conversation is nearly over "We can just hope that one day our actions, the legacy we leave behind can make something change"

"We going out on patrol today Sir?"

"I am, with 3 Section but you, no" He's standing now, his head going towards the gates that divide us from the danger outside, "I still don't trust you to not get yourself in danger"

"That's a bit unfair Sir?" Shrugging he looks down at me, his height giving me the feeling of being safe in his company, he's becoming more and more to me… bit scary. "I am here to do a bleedin' job"

"100% agreed Private Dawes, which is why Kinders has a full day of work ahead of you, let us see if you can manage to behave yourself, follow rules, you know those standards that I'm sure were drummed into you at your training"

"Absolutely Sir" The joking tone has returned between us, the smile taking over my face "You can trust me"

-xx-

"Put some bloody effort in Mansfield"

I'm managing and refereeing the lads play football through the lenses of Bossman's abandoned sunglasses, I think when I go back I'll need to invest in some expensive shades 'cause his are definitely better than the crap ones I've brought with me, if I had these from the start I wouldn't be considering botox to get rid of the wrinkles round my eyes I've gained since I got here. The day has become hot, even more than normal, not even a bleedin' breeze to cool us down, it just shows how bored the guys are that they're running about rather than smoking their lungs out in the shade, I don't think you could sunbathe on a day like today.

'Did you see that tackle Dawesy?"

"Indeed Baz" I push my glasses down my nose and peer at the lads over the top of them, I haven't a clue what happened, taking a sip out of the Captain's abandoned thermos mug which I refilled with tea, thinking about it and giving a penalty against Nude-Nut, Dangles and Fingers, they ain't happy, don't blame them as I don't think they did anything wrong but I'm not gonna' give a penalty against the Corp am I?

"Come on you shit brained bunch of lady parts stop bleedin' arguing and get on with this game" I use the dry pages of the Boss's abandoned book to fan myself, the water that I'm lying in is getting too hot but I'm not getting out, well I will as soon as the lads give me the heads up that he's returned from patrol with 3 section, and the good thing is the heat should dry his book out quickly after I dropped it in his paddling pool. Good times. I feel happy.

"You're not endearing yourself to me Dangles" He probably didn't think I'd notice him doing the wanking sign towards me what with the glasses on, I hate when the Boss wears them 'cause I can't tell if he's looking at me and therefore can't get away with a perving session over him.

The boys head off the pitch mumbling something about somebody being a crap referee, which is a load of shit 'cause after all I am the dog's bollocks and It's midday now; the heat is getting too intense. I can hear them talk about what they're going to get up to when they go home for their R&R from the shade that they've found next to the gym area. We are nearly halfway through our tour and the prospect of a trip home is getting closer, I'm not sure how I feel about it. The sound of their voices start to drift, fragments of sentences floating towards me on the still hot air as I relax, imagining I'm in Benidorm or somewhere like that, I'm sure they have goats there too, the distance sound of their bells infiltrating the feeling of sleepy contentment that's coming over me, I could almost imagine I was lying on a lilo in one of them pools that you think just drop at the edge, my eyes start to get heavy, my breathing getting deeper - I could really learn a lot from the Boss on his whole relaxing shit on tour.

"Piss off mate or you'll be up on a charge" They really can't help themselves bunch of tossers, you'd think they'd grow up or something rather than getting me back my dripping water onto my face. Anyway it gives me an excuse to practice my impersonation of the Bossman, if I say so myself I'm gettin' pretty good at it. I also give the glasses a smug push up my nose 'cause I've seen him do that before too, raising the thermos mug to my lips - they do say that tea is the most refreshing drink 'n' I have to say I agree with them.

"And what exactly would that charge be Dawes?" Credit where credit due 'n' all that but he does do his drawl better than me.

It's close but I manage to swallow the mouthful of tea, rather than choking on it or spitting it out, letting it slide down my gullet before answering. "Don't know Sir, interruption of an inferior rank's quality time?" Opening one eye I see him crouched beside me, and he looks beautiful, his hair's all messed up and he's got a smirk on his face making him look years younger. I push his Oakley's onto the top of my head, allowing me to get a better look, he's fighting to stop his grin from going into a proper smile, failing briefly when I wink at him before the familiar mask comes over his face "Just looking after your stuff for you Boss" He raises one eyebrow and takes his mug out of my hand, taking a sip, wincing at the sugary tea.

"I take coffee, black"

"Bad for your teeth"

"What and sugar isn't?"

"That rots your teeth, black coffee stains your teeth, everyone knows that" the shake of his head is cute and I'm sure he's looking down so I don't see his amusement and when he does look back at me I can't help grinning at him. We've been getting on much better and he seems to let me push the boundaries sometimes. I like it. "How was your trip?"

He groans, lifting his flak jacket over his head, discarding it to the side next to his helmet and bergen, pulling his shirt away from his skin as if he's trying to get air to circulate."What the trip to the poppy fields to get shot at by some insurgents"

"Yeah that'll be the one"

"Had better days" He picks up his book, looking at the soaked pages, collapsing next to me so he's sitting on the ground "Was looking forward to reading this when I got back"

Leaning back, I lose the fight against a yawn, I always find his company relaxing. "It was shit anyway, I did you a favour"

Forming the perfect 0 with his mouth he yawns too, displaying a perfect set of nashers. "Have you read it?" His voice isn't as surprised as it should be considering the question and the thickness of the book in his hands.

"Don't be daft but anything what says" ignoring the rude sounding squeak from the plastic paddling pool as I lean over, I lift up the book that's in his hands to read the blurb on the back again "The Day of the Jackal meets Homeland with a dash of Bourne means it ain't got a clue what it is and the bloke what wrote it probably just copied those other books" Once I let it go he drops it beside him, leaning back on his hands, putting his face up to the sun to take in the rays, I feel a bit bad now that I've put him off his book "I could give you a loan of my Hello magazine if you want, it's a few weeks out of date mind but it's got a well wicked piece about Prince Harry in it"

He shuts his eyes, his lips twitching before he smiles, amusement lacing his voice "You're alright Dawes, I'll give that a miss" We sit, well I lie, companionably for a while, before he straightens up, running his hands through his hair and then looking at me, his eyes are still smiling; I love it when he does that 'cause they go all gooey. Briefly I follow his gaze as it travels along my body, he's probably a bit jealous that all of me fits in the pool where as he needs to lie with his feet sticking out, I am glad though that I kept my combats on as my legs are getting a bit prickly, I'm waiting on my comfort box as my bloody razors have gone missing again and Fingers promised it wasn't him this time. "Are you going to get out of my pool at any point?"

"Bet you're an only child" I stay where I am, too comfortable and enjoying this moment to move, now that I don't have a cup or a book I can stretch my arms out.

"What has that got to do with anything?" his question is bewildered, nose scrunched up - it's fucking adorable.

"Well you're obviously not good at sharing, are you?" I'm glad that our relationship has moved on, the annoyance of him from the last few days, the thawing of this morning and now the gentle banter of just now.

"It's my pool"

"Exactly. My" I shrug my shoulders, argument won but I'm going in for the winning penalty kick "I blew it up." There is a tinge of red appearing on his high cheekbones, proof that he hasn't forgotten nominating me to blow it up whilst telling the assembled lads that 'no doubt I was good at blowing', in his defense he didn't realise what he'd said and his hasty explanation that I 'had to much hot air' was lost amongst the sniggering of the lads. With a lack of finesse I climb out the pool, there's an awkward moment where he goes to steady me before realising what he's about to do, snatching his hand back causing me to nearly fall, we both pretend it never happened. I stand still, not sure what else to do and watch as he empties the water out "You not gonna' have a shot Sir?"

"Of course, but only after you've filled it up with clean water. No double dipping here Dawes" He's doing it intentionally, though I'm not sure if it's just in East Ham that could be taken as a bit rude, not that I've ever done it, or anything like it.

"Not the adventurous kind then Sir?"

He drops the children's pool, slowly crossing the distance between us, watching me every step of the way. I'm having trouble swallowing as I watch him, it's like he stalking me; like I'm the prey and I don't stand a chance. When he reaches me, he drops his chin, tipping the shoulder nearest me to close the height difference between us. He doesn't speak straight away, his eyes challenging me to back down or do something I'm not sure what, finally I feel his breath on my cheek as he exhales "Make sure you fill my paddling pool right up" he bites his lip, his shoulders returning to miles above mines and starts to walk backwards lifting up his protective gear, still watching the effect he has on me before he laughs, actually bloody laughs.

"That well wasn't funny Sir"

Looking about 16 he gives me one final shake of his head, turning and walking away. Think I'll have a cold shower before I start filling up his pool.


	9. Impending Predicaments

**And so the slowest paced story in OG FF continues... Thanks as always for all your support, I'm always exceedingly grateful :) My version of Pashto comes from the Wikipedia guide so please forgive anything I have got wrong, I'm still waiting on M15 knocking on my door one day and having to explain exactly why I google the oddest things!**

"Keep alert guys"

"Yes Boss" We're universal in our response, we all know there's something different, our routine patrol through the village being met with stares; looks of distrust. I share a look of confusion with Baz, both of us holding our guns tighter, checking the doors and alleyways as we proceed. As far as we know nothing has changed, there's been no word of Taliban strikes but something's going down, I'd bet my last bar of galaxy caramel on it. An old man shouts something to us, I'm not sure what but the Boss man holds up his hand stopping us, indicating with his head for Qaseem and Kinders to go over and talk to him, we cover them, taking it in turns to check the surrounding area too.

"You alright Dawes?"

"Never been better Sir" He's moved beside me, taking Kinders' place, he's facing 3 o'clock whilst I'm facing 6, in other words we've got each others back. "What do you think is happening?"

There's silence, I want to turn and look at him but I can't, still scanning the makeshift houses in front of me. Feeling the hairs on the back of my neck I want to panic, swallowing and trying to keep it at bay, fighting against the fear. "Could be the Taliban have made their presence… or the locals have become fed up of us, feel as if we're involving ourselves too much."

"He says that we bring trouble to his town" I don't drop my weapon at the sound of Qaseem's voice, trying to keep my focus up as I listen "If we weren't here then the Taliban would keep away" The sigh from the Boss is surprisingly loud in the troubled, watchful atmosphere of the town, I'm aware that he's turned in my direction and i can't help but look, he watches me for a minute, as if he's trying to share thoughts he doesn't want to speak out loud.

"The Taliban are here ain't they Sir?" He nods, a weary acceptance of the facts, his look at all of us is of a man who regrets what he just heard, I suppose like us he thought he was as safe as you can be in Afghan, that the small cell wouldn't cause any trouble.

"Let's get ourselves somewhere for a swift break Lads, then get home safe, I want full focus, agreed"

"Yes Sir"

When we do stop, just outside the village, we have a good position to watch for any danger which might come our way, the village not far, none of us completely relax. I'm sitting on my Bergen with my loaded gun in my lap, I know the Boss is standing behind me, back tense as he watches, sipping from his camel pack, when he catches me looking he tries to give me a reassuring smile but I think my smile back to him is probably more reassuring. "I suppose they still trust us" Following his line of vision I take in the kids, making their way towards us. I suppose in a country where there are no tv's and entertainment is good old fashioned playing, the presence of soldiers is gonna' be interesting.

Bashira comes over, sliding to a stop with a shy smile on her face as she stands in front of me, she never walks anywhere, an enthusiasm to life that I didn't have at her age, I'd spent as much time as possible in front of the Tele, the benefit of being the oldest kid that I could bully my younger siblings into watching whatever I wanted. "Hello you" She doesn't speak, nodding her head, checking out the Bossman behind me as if she's aware of his importance "He's not scary, he likes to pretend he is though" Her giggle is infectious, I can even hear an involuntary snort from the Bossman "What you got?" She's holding out her hand, I recognise the knobbly bones in her hand; groaning.

"Come on now Dawes, didn't have you down as the squeamish kind" He loses the seriousness for a second, the humour in his voice as if he too is taking something from the innocence of the kids as he stops beside us, lifting out the goat knuckles from Bashira's hand, passing them to me "Two minutes then we're heading off again" His hand goes onto the young girl's head as he walks past, a warmth I hadn't expected of the sometimes emotionally detached man.

I haven't learned this game yet, sliding off my Temporary seating so I'm on the same level as my little friend; Sang Chill Bazzi I can just about get, but marbles ain't something I've played much in my life especially not with actual dead animal bones. You wonder what they'd make of the technological Britain that I grew up in. "I think we should change the rules Bashira I'm rubbish at this" The odd shaped marbles don't go the way I aim, missing their targets by bleedin' miles, which amuses the young girl. Qaseem asked her how old she was for me the other day and she's 11, the same age as my stroppy, make up wearing, One Direction obsessed sister who wouldn't be seen dead in anything that didn't have a label. "One last try 'n' then I'm giving up"

She giggles, covering her mouth, when my makeshift marbles go heading off in the wrong direction away from the small cluster that she's managed to get close together. "Tomorrow?" Hopefully she looks at me, her question asked with a smile, one that is even given to the Bossman when he comes and stands beside us again, lifting up my Bergen, handing it to me as he looks between us.

"Yeah maybe?"

"Yeah? Za na poheegum?"

"I wouldn't worry Bashira, I never understand her either" I really need to put more effort into this learning pashto "Ho" he says it with a shrug of his shoulders before flicking his head to tell me to move on, waiting on me as if he doesn't trust me not to follow.

"Tell you what Sir, I'm gonna' well kick your arse with Pashto in the next few weeks, I hate that I can't speak it" He's in front of me for the long treck back, all of us weary with our lack of a proper break. I understand though, he wants to get us back so he can discuss this latest developments with the Major, work out how we deal with it all now. I'm glad I don't have to worry about that; my only concern is following his orders. "You're gonna' be well impressed I can tell you"

His head is down, scrutinising the ground at our feet, word came in that a Section had nearly been taken out by ground that was too bleedin' perfect, can you believe that, not only do we need to look at ground that has been tampered with we also need to look for ground that ain't. "I'll look forward to that Private Dawes"

"You could sound a bit bleedin' more enthusiastic you know"

"Forgive me for prioritising the safety of the Section before your own need to impress with your ability at languages" He snaps, so I shut up, it's difficult though, because I'm nervous, keeping quiet ain't up there as one of my strong points. We've gone another 2 miles or 3 kilometres or 1,000,000 agonising steps when the Fob comes into view, the weight on my back lightening with relief, it's been a tough journey, even James turns and gives me a small smile, well one side of his mouth turns up slightly. "Nearly there Dawes, get ready to get that phrase book out"

I can't help but huff "Don't know if Qaseem would appreciate you speaking about him like that. Sir" This time he does smile and laugh, his head turned in my direction, his facial features soft as if he does really like me.

"Well let's just see how good you're going to be Dawes"

Do you ever regret doing something, well i just did 'cause I just stuck my tongue out at him, don't think I'm ever going to live that down, thankfully he just shakes his head and moves forward, our pace having picked up as the control tower would have noticed any IED's having been laid whilst we were away.

* * *

"Maakhaam mo pa kheyr, Sir" Truth be told I have been in a bit of a huff with him and then well, I realised that it ain't his fault that I'm a teensy tiny bit in love with him and he is, no fault of his own, completely out of my league and my Commanding Officer, so I can't be too mad that he snipped at me earlier. And why, I've decided now that a huff might get me some attention I don't know 'cause I'm sure I once tried it when I was 5 or 6 and no one noticed; when I did eventually come down stairs that time my mum said she had wondered why it had been so quiet for a couple of hours. Lesson learned.

"You alright Dawes?" He looks up from his book, I'm glad to see it's dried out, pushing it to the side, smiling at me as if he's pleased to see me. The canteen area is quiet at this time of night, there's only the soldiers on guard duty walking about, I'm only still up because some twat from 3 Section decided that his crabs had got too bad to suffer in silence. Sometimes I really don't like my job.

Pouring myself a cup of tea, warming my hands up on the cup as I do, trying to acclimatise to the surprisingly cold evening. "Did you get what I said?" There's still a twinkle in his eyes as he contemplates what I said with mock seriousness, I presume it's pretend 'cause Qaseem assured me that I was saying it properly.

"Za poheegum"

"That is that you understand Sir, ain't it?"

"Yes it is Dawes" His head nods towards my cup as he holds his own far posher thermos mug out "Whilst you're there" I know what he takes in his coffee; coffee. Even I can make that but he still pretends that it's minging when he takes a sip, not asking me to make a replacement so it can't be that bad. "You sitting down for a bit?"

Of course I bleedin' am, I'm not gonna' turn down that opportunity am I, and it's not as if we're doing anything wrong 'cause he often sits and talks to the lads. "We going out on patrol tomorrow Sir?"

"Yup, the village again" Clinking his mug against mine he gives me a rueful look before smiling, as if he's found something positive out of it "Just think Dawes, maybe you can practise your Pashto on some unsuspecting Afghans"

"I hope so Sir, cause Qaseem has taught me a well wicked phrase that I'm gagging to use"

Tilting his head back he drains his mug, giving me time to watch his adams apple with fascination until he looks straight at me, exhaling a snort "I don't think I want to know"

"Yeah but I had to make a trade off, like you show me yours and I'll….."

"Dawes" He's interrupting, laughing as he does so "are you for real?"

"Of course, 'n' I don't know what you're getting all uppity for Sir, I only taught him to say 'shittin' through the eye of a needle' it's much better than delhi belly or whatever it is he thought we said"

"For God's sake do you corrupt everyone you meet?"

"I ain't corrupted you Sir have I? You're immune to my charms"

One lone eyebrow is raised, his long fingers flicking through his book as he watches the pages fanning, you wouldn't know it had been for a little swim in a paddling pool, I'm about to ask if he's enjoying it when he looks at me, as if he's worried about something. Doing his usual when he's unsure, his eyes try to tell you before his mouth starts working, his words measured as they come out "Smurf's coming back tomorrow"

"That's good ain't it?" I'm confused surely he should be happy that the wanker's coming back, he has been missed by the lads from the Section. "Though I could do without all his sentimental shit"

"What do you mean?"

"In Bastion he was all I'll make it up to you, let me hold your hand, I nearly brought up my lilly and skinner it was so" Sticking my fingers down my throat gives him the correct idea, he doesn't seem too annoyed that I'm not exactly the main subscriber to the Smurf fan club.

"In his report he did say that Bashira encouraged him across the minefield" Watching me I can tell that he's waiting for my reaction, not rushing my answer as I go between anger and disgust.

"She's just a bleedin' kid, what she's at fault 'cause he made a mistake?"

"If she was intentionally trying to get him away from the Section you can't blame her" His brow furrows, lines forming along his forehead "She would be a pawn, an unwitting player in a bigger game. We need to be aware Dawes. We can't trust anybody out here. It would be dangerous."

"You trying to tell me that I can't trust an 11 year old little girl? That is so messed up"

Leaning back he pushes against the table as if trying to get some distance, from me or the situation I don't know, when he leans forward again he rests his crossed arms on the table, his face closer to mine, I can see the gold flecks surrounded by the dark dilated pupils, an anger that's not directed at me evident "It doesn't come down to that Dawes. If her family are encouraging her to do something then she will, what 11 year old do you know who would be strong enough to go against the wishes of a parent?"

"You're saying her family are Taliban?" I whisper; I'm still uneducated in the whole culture, only having learned snippets from Charles but I know enough to realise that's not good, not good for Bashira.

He picks up his coffee, taking a sip, putting it down, biting his fingernail, all to give him time to answer "Not necessarily, but we saw today that the Taliban have infiltrated the village, just how much we don't know but they could be putting pressure on the father who in due course is putting pressure on her."

"Do you know" I look to the side, my hands turning my mug round and round in my hands as my mind tries to make sense of the world out here, that a kid could be used to get someone killed. "When Beck first said that this was your fourth tour I thought you were mad, like who would volunteer to come out here, never mind for a fourth tour, but it does get to you don't it. You want to make a difference, in a way you think you can but I don't know; can you?"

"I believe that you can" His laugh isn't what I expect, a contrast to the bleak look on his face "After everything we give up, you know our home life, leaving people behind who are important to us, never mind putting our lives in constant danger, well, we don't just do it for the pay do we?"

"Don't know about you Sir, but I do it for the the free round the world travel"

"Well okay, I do it for the free food"

Giggling I take up his challenge of lightening the mood, we're good at this, bouncing off each other "Nah I could really kill for a decent curry, goat curry's not really floating my boat"

"Is that what you miss most? A South Indian Garlic Chilli chicken curry?" He's bemused, his knee knocking against mine and before I can think it through I'm honest with him, his face mirroring mine as I feel as if I might cry, letting him know my innermost thoughts in a quiet voice that seems too loud in the light breeze of the night.

"A hug, that's what I miss the most, just that feeling of being secure, of being safe."

There's no reply, shit I've made him feel awkward. He stands up, waiting for me to do the same, he nods his head towards my hand, instinctively I reach out for his mug, our fingers touching for the briefest of seconds, secretly I inhale the smell of the coffee, I think I'll always associate it with him, funny how I love the smell but can't stand the taste - of the coffee; I'd love the chance to have another taste of him if I could! Turning from rinsing them out I stand beside him, watching the mountains like he's doing. The stark peaks illuminated by the sun that's dropped down behind casting a mesmerising orange glow, the sunsets here are breathtaking. "Look Sir, there's Venus, they call that little Earth you know?"

"What would I do without you Dawes" I don't think he's being sarcastic, he looks serious with his hands rammed in his pockets, his gaze fixed on where my finger had been pointing.

"Wash your own mug Sir?"

Finally there's some emotion, an amused exhalation of a laugh with a shake of his head "Good night Dawes" his eyes are twinkling as in slow motion his head comes down towards me, his cheek brushes against mine and I wait for him to whisper something cheeky but he doesn't, it's as if his body jolts, I feel the tension as he stands next to me. When he straightens up, his eyes don't meet mine and he looks, well, gutted "Sleep well, we're out on patrol at 05:00"

"Bet you say that to all the girls Sir" I only get a half smile, I think I'm gonna' need to try and cheer him up tomorrow, he's maybe feeling a bit homesick or something.


	10. Hometruths

**As always, you are all completely amazing for reading and putting up with this. Thank you x**

"Sorry Sir"

I've never been good at giving people bad news, for a few seconds I'd thought of keeping this to myself till I'd sorted it out in my nugget but it's too big and decisions that I don't have a clue about will need to be made. For a short space of time I can read him, before he fixes his sight on the opening to the hut behind me. His eyes I've decided are like layers of colour, each shade of brown a clue to how he's feeling, the dark rich colour of when he's relaxed 'n' happy never present these days, I'm not surprised when it's the duller shade of auburn I notice, like there's no emotion going on in there; this is about more than Bashira. He's been different to me for days now, ever since I'd opened my gob, telling him that I'd need a hug. But I wasn't looking for one from him and I've stopped beating myself up, I told him what I was feeling at the time, nothing more, well obviously I still have feelings for him and if he offered I wouldn't have said no, I would of done a maneuver that a professional gymnast would have been proud of to wrap myself around him; but he doesn't know that. I don't think. God I hope not.

His tone is harsh when he deigns to speak, almost accusing as if I've caused all this trouble intentionally. "There's a chance that we will need to speak to the girl."

"Yes Sir"

"It's maybe better if you're there too Dawes" His hand goes onto his radio, clear voice ringing out, asking for Qaseem and Kinders to make their way back, advising Smurf that he's now lead, at least the Welsh wanker will be happy; finally getting his position back. I've decided in life if I ever see another grain of sand it will be too soon and if I ever come across another grateful Welsh squaddie whose bleedin' life I've saved I'll be buying myself out of the army pronto. "Saying that it's making both you and her vulnerable" watching, waiting on them to get to us, he opens his mouth as if he's gonna' say something else but then shuts it, the silence between us broken by the sound of Bashira's mothers' anxiety over her daughter, though why she didn't just clump the dad one in the first place I'll never know "I never want to see that kid again" the words are said just as the guys reach us, my shocked response dying on my lips, my problem is that they weren't said as if he meant it, his tone implying that it were more something personal, that he hadn't meant to say the words out loud.

Standing on the periphery I wait, watching the three of them discussing what to do next. Kinders isn't saying much, Qaseem vocal with his disapproval at the possible repercussion of soldiers speaking to the young girl, that it could exacerbate the situation or something like that, I'm kinda of away in a world of my own, imaging a life for Bashira where she doesn't have to tell the supposed enemy that they're maybe gonna' get killed by her father, well I presume it will be her old man, if she's telling the truth. I can tell by the way the bossman is arguing with Qaseem that he's maybe not too sure.

"Molly, tell me please what she said to you" Qaseem fixes me with a stare, having cut of Charles; intense and kindly at the same time. It makes my head hurt 'n' buying myself time I rub my forehead, I need to get this right, her exact words are important which is a bit difficult when I don't speak the language, 'specially when there's three people watching, waiting to make decisions on your answer, well two and one scrutinising you, his eyes boring into me, the most visual contact we've had in days. I start to waver, doubting what I heard, shit, can you image if I've got it all wrong and she was just giving me travel advice "Just the ones in your language."

"She just said… do not go to the mountains tomorrow"

"What were you talking about before then Dawes" He's got his arms folded, facing Kinders, sometimes he ain't half a commanding officer, me a lowly soldier, I don't think the gulf between us has been so big, apart from when we were on the sodding plane out here.

"She was saying that her Dad hit her 'cause she loves the American's or something like that, and I was telling her she needed to get her eye sorted and…."

" 'Something like that'? Won't do Dawes. They could be setting you up …. All of us up for a trap, there could be lives at risk here"

Don't shoot the messenger I want to point out, I'm at a bit of a loss of what I've done wrong here, apart from listen, oh and according to her mum it were my fault she was hit. So maybe he has a point. "She repeated it twice Sir" I emphasise the Sir, knowing he's got a right to speak to me anyway he wants, but I don't need to like it, my hackles rising at the way he's being, back to before as if it were all my fault that we'd shagged.

"We take Private Dawes word for it Touran James, Bashira's in there with her mother, we will already have raised suspicion for the girl and for us all to go in there and interrogate her" Qaseem raises his shoulders, his words final "would cause trouble for the girl"

"Agreed, tell Sohail to send them on their way, fast."

I start to follow him as he heads off, leaving the small compound I presume to join the lads "Sir"

"I really don't think I want to hear this" Not turning round, he stands waiting for me to speak.

"Can I please go in and tell 'em, it's just, well, Sohail, I don't trust him." Now he turns, his eyes narrowing as I try to get through to him "You saw what he was like earlier even you said it were like he wasn't on …"

"At the moment Dawes I'm tempted to put you on the first flight back to Brize, we're here to do a job not to be fucking social workers" sighing, hopefully feeling shittin' bad for that comment his tone softens "you're putting yourself at risk, you can't get involved, with anyone."

"I'm not trying to get involved, with anyone, I'm just dealing with what's happening." I ignore the sensation at the back of my eye lids, I'm not gonna' give him the satisfaction of seeing me cry, though I have to take a big gulp, swallowing the pressure in my throat "She's just a kid, Sir, she don't deserve this."

"Right, go in there tell them to go and I don't want to hear the mention of her name again. Understood"

"Yes Sir" He glares at me, the tear that's been making its bid for freedom, squeezing out the side of my tear duct, even stretching my eyes open to try and hold onto it until he's at least pissed off out doesn't help, I look down, not wanting to see the expression on his face.

"I need to keep you safe Dawes, you have to understand that" Each word is punctuated, like he's trying to get the message through to a small kid.

"Sir" I manage the syllable, no breaking in my voice, I need to get a grip.

"Everything alright Dawesy, you're looking a bit shit?" It's not Smurf I find myself looking at when I lift my head, unintentionally staring straight at the Boss, his head nodding towards the hut, sending me on my way, leaving the two of them standing next to each other, I don't answer Smurf, back to thinking my voice will break. "It's alright Sir, I'll give her some of the Smurf charm later on and she'll well be back on top form." The words are caught on the breeze, they mean nothing to me, not the right person I want to be charmed by.

* * *

"When I joined the army" he finishes threading the Velcro through the neck brace before placing it in my outstretched hands, his help in assisting me to pack up is unexpected and unsettling, certainly not unwelcome. "I thought it would be easy, that I was borne to lead. I've never deviated, never questioned myself, even when Smurf's brother…though I wish it had been different, that he'd been saved…." I'd watched him when he'd stood outside in the soft drizzle of rain, a slump to his shoulders that made me think he was suffering about something; his head at one point raised, the rain washing his face, tracks running down the grime on his cheeks. Then he turned, catching me staring, mesmerised by seeing him with the weight of the world on his shoulders, the drops of rain on the end of his lashes cancelling out the uniform, the gun, making me appreciate the man rather than the Officer. I looked away first, caught, guilty almost jumping with surprise when I turned to see him dipping his head as he came through the arch, his jaw set, and when he started to speak it was as if he'd rehearsed his lines but they sounded different to him as he spoke out loud "…. I didn't think I'd ever be professionally conflicted, I was too focussed, it wouldn't happen to me." Ruefully he shakes his head, he's annoyed at himself.

"Sir" Quietly I respond, stopping what I'm doing to look at him, unsure of where this is going. For some reason I feel as if I'm back in that Premier Inn finding out about each other, well he asked about me that night and I choose not to answer, he wasn't too forthcoming about himself either, the wariness is the same, both of us scared that the other might find something not to like. Or wishful thinking on my part.

"You do what you think's right at the time. I have a duty of care…" His hands fold the bottom part of the stretcher, the snap as it joins together breaking the silence in the room, long fingers stop, resting against the metal, speaking softly his words surprise me "I need to remain professional" One hand goes to the back of his neck, distractedly tugging at the curls that have grown since we've arrived. "I am sorry I made you cry."

Shit. Why did that make the lump in the back of my throat reappear as if summonsed? I don't know but I fight against it, god knows what he'd do if I went into a fully-fledged snotters and all meltdown, the waver in my voice is hidden by my false laugh "Forget about it, that's your job being a Rupert, I'm having a bad day that's all." I can't look at him, I'm bloody mortified "And just for the record can we say that I got something in my eye or something, don't want it getting back to the lads"

He's standing close to me, exhaling a short laugh as he nods his head, watching me as I finish folding the bed, holding his hand out to take it, placing it on the ground, he always makes one of the lads carry it, taking into account that I've got enough to carry. "Did you feel better for getting your hug?" I turn at this question, it doesn't make sense, trying to remember what he'd said before. It's then that I take in the paleness of his complexion, something not quite right about the smile what he's giving me, it's not only that it isn't reaching his eyes, it's not even noticeable on his mouth, he's watching me out of the corner of his eye as if he's expecting some kind of reaction, the possibility that it could be negative. Mind you maybe he's had enough of this hell hole, where adults shoot lumps out of the walls in a school and a dad hits a kid to the point he's damaged her eye.

"What?" Probably I've misheard, misread "Sir?"

"Smurf, he gave you a hug?"

I remember it, he'd hardly arrived back when he interpreted me being pleased at seeing him as an invitation to wrap his arms around me. I am glad he's alive, don't get me wrong, 'n' I don't dislike him but he's just Smurf, and the way he shoved his groin into me eeuuch, I feel an involuntary shiver just thinking about it. "I suppose he did, mind it's a bit like a dog humping your leg and saying that it's scratched an 'itch' if you're on my wavelength."

"You comparing Smurf to a dog?" Lifting up my med Bergen he places it facing the right way on the ledge. He's still looking wary but there's a warmth there that wasn't before.

"He'd be one of them clingy ones wouldn't he? That embarrassed you in front of all your family 'n' mates, humping your leg or sniffing the crotch of your nan. Not pissing off no matter what you did"

"You maybe have a point" His mouth twitches, his shoulder bumping against mine in shared humour "And licked your face"

"After licking it's balls. My Nan had a dog like that" My back leans against the ledge, arms crossed copying his body language. It's obvious ain't it, I can't stay mad for long, my heart swelling with glee at our return to joking. "She called him Dave 'cause he reminded her of my dad. She had to give him away though as he didn't like kids. It were well scary the similarities. She even said that if my dad weren't alive she would swear blind that the bleedin' dog was a reincarnation of him. Mind he weren't too happy with that, what with it being a Chihuahua"

For the first time in days he laughs, directing his amusement towards the ceiling before he looks back down at me. "What would have been better?"

"A sloth would have been closest." He holds out the strap of the Bergen, making it easier for me to put my arm through and position more comfortably on my shoulders. "What about you?"

Dangles comes through on the headset, the Captain's hand going up to stop me talking as he answers, we both listen to their location and ETA for joining us for the long walk back home before the Boss signs off, turning, looking down. "What do you mean?" The question is confused, I presume which is why he's forgotten that his hand is still on the padded strap, stopping me from turning and grabbing my helmet.

"Have you ever had a dog?"

His adam's apple bobs up and down a few times, strangely for such an easy, general question "Maybe" My face screws up, like what kind of bleedin' answer is maybe? He's embarrassed, uncomfortable a tinge of red making it's way up his neck; then he elaborates "Well I did, but what with this job it was decided that she was also best not staying with me."

"You sound sad" The Bergen is safely on my back, my observation still hanging in the air, the Boss making his way out as if he's not gonna' answer. But then, when I've drawn level with him he looks down, smiles, this one reaching his gob but not his eyes though they have gone a gorgeous colour of caramel, I need to remember to add that to my list of observations.

"Do I? Worse happened but yeah, wasn't one of the greatest moments of my life." Pointedly he looks at my helmet, waiting till I've put it on and done up the strap before moving off again. His sadness is palpable, now I just want to give him a hug to make him feel better.

"I'm gonna' buy you a present" Sounding confident, well I am, I need to cheer him up and the way he looks down at me reminds me of how my dad sometimes looks at my mum, like with affection, well when he's not drunk or hung-over or in a mingin' mood.

"No you're not" But he's amused, the corner of his mouth lifting as he walks forward, his stride adjusted so I can keep up.

Looking up I take in the unusual grey, heavy sky, maybe that's what's wrong with all of us, we'll both be sorted with some sunshine and another killer hot day. "Yeah I am, I'm gonna' sponsor you one of them dogs what you see on the tele, dogs trust or summit. You could carry the picture what they give you everywhere."

"You'd better not sponsor me a fucking Chihuahua" He drawls as he looks through the sight of the gun, checking the area that 2 section are currently trailing their way through the narrow streets to get to us.

"Nah, it'll be one of them poodles, what with your hair"

"Careful Dawes, or you'll be up on a charge"

In for a penny, in for a quid or something like that "For that Sir, you'd actually need to proper interact with me and you ain't been doing much of that recently"

"Incase you hadn't noticed. I have had other things to deal with" I've embarrassed him again, his snapped tone contradicting the blush that's continuing up his neck.

"Yeah right, I saw you turning back when you saw me in the canteen this morning"

"No I didn't" He did, he's obviously not used to avoiding people 'cause he's well shit at it.

I raise my eyes, going for innocence with my next observation "And I suppose you stopped coming to get your blisters checked as they miraculously got better overnight?"

"I haven't had the time" His voice is pained, anger and something else that I can't put my finger on hinted at, crossing a line that I shouldn't.

"And according to Mansfield you're gonna' sing a duet with him tomorrow night" It's one of these things what's meant as a joke but doesn't come out that way. I sound about 5 complaining that I've been left out of a game of tig and I'm about to stamp my feet to make a point.

"That's not quite true" Putting his gun down, he shakes his head, running his tongue round his mouth as he thinks about it, once he knows what he's going to say he turns, standing in my personal space, I have to tip my chin up to see him properly "I had a discussion with the lads about the entertainment. I did not specify who with".

"Sorry Sir, I'm stepping over a line here ain't I?"

Turning he watches the impending arrival, his smile more of a grimace "Just a bit" I think we have at least two minutes till the lads reach us. Time is running out for me, when we get back to the FOB he'll keep himself away from me.

"Who would you prefer to sing a duet with Sir, me or Mansfield?"

His smile is as if I've challenged him, but he doesn't seem too displeased about it, finally a sparkle of humour in his eyes "I think I'll take the fifth amendment on that one Dawes"

"Knew it would be Mansfield. Bastard" The twat in question is 30 feet away, the sound of their boots on the firm sand getting closer.

"You really want to sing a duet with me that much" He's flirting, I'm telling myself he's flirting, he is flirting, his eyes have gone a warm melting chocolate colour, putting my head to the side I bat my eyelids.

"Either that or I'm gonna' have to sing a duet with Smurf, if you dislike me that much that you'd put me through that, well, I think you should put me on that plane to Brize like you want"

The humour slides off his face, leaving him looking confused, a furrow between his brows, the lads 15 feet away now "I only want to keep you safe Dawes, sometimes I'm at a lose at how to achieve that."

"And get some peace and quiet."

"Well there is that I suppose." The clock is

ticking with each step of the lads boots, our voices becoming lower, 5 feet away now "But mainly it's because I would never forgive myself if something happened to you." His mouth downturns, an air of nonchalance to his expression which belies the emotion in the one word he speaks next "Ever." Two strides away. His timbre is the softest I've heard yet; I hang onto each and every word. "Make of that what you want." And with that he nods once, a professional air returned to his countenance as the lads come to a stop, becoming the focus of his attention. Time has ran out. Our conversation over.


	11. Knowing the Answers

**I honestly can't tell you how much I appreciate the lovely comments, I do this because I enjoy it but it's also because I know how much I appreciate others wonderful ff and my only aim is that this also helps relive the wonder of Our you for reading x  
**

When I was younger my dad used to take me with him to the Football, his first born being a girl wasn't gonna' put him off passing on his love for the beautiful game, or to be precise the 11 blokes running around with a West Ham kit on. I loved those days; unusual quality time with the man I looked up to, away from the noise and carnage of the ever expanding Dawes clan, a whole bleedin' pie to myself and a too hot, smelly Bovril which I hated but still drank, on my best behaviour so he'd want to take me again.

The football stadium which I could see from our balcony became another world; the noise, the passion, the competitiveness from both sides, words i didn't understand, rude gestures that I learned from the men around me, more than willing to use them on anyone passing with an offending away team scarf on, no idea at 7 why if you lost against Millwall I had to be dropped back home, not allowed to sneak into the pub with my dad afterwards to commiserate like other times with my blackcurrant and soda. Eventually those days stopped, came to an end like everything in life, whether is was because he became depressed, started his descent into unemployability, self pity and self loathing or whether because I pretended that I didn't want to go, hurt because our quality time was becoming habitually cancelled and rather than tell my old man I were gutted, I pretended I didn't want to go, sometimes watching him as he walked across the road with his mates, the money that should of been buying us food or electricity in his pocket, the division of a family growing, no-one knowing how to get it back.

I thought those derby matches where the pinnacle of dog-eat-dog competitiveness, that nothing would ever come close to the hopes and dreams that could be shattered in those 90 minutes, but I was wrong:

The inter-platoon quiz night. The second in a series of 4 tests to see who is the best section. Me with 2 section who came second in a catapult competition last month, poised, tense, Baz staring out Micklem in 3 section, mind games being utilised. I'm staring at a blank piece of paper, dreading showing up my lack of intelligence, sharpening my pencil to buy some time.

"Will Dawes ever stop procrastinating over that bloody pencil so we can start this?"

"Yes, I know the answer to that" Shouting out I fist pump the air, whilst writing down No under question 1, looking up and meeting his warm smile in my direction as he stands at the side of the by day canteen area, by night social hub with a book of questions in his hand, pages marked out with yellow sticky notes. He's my friend now. I don't pop round to his tent for tea or anything but we chat, he asks me how I'm feeling as if he cares and I've divided my time successfully; during the day I don't take anything out of what he said the other day in the village, only at night do I let myself believe that he was trying to tell me something else, something that was very important.

"Glad to see your pencil is now working Private, so, can we start lads?" He looks round everyone, even in our time off, the purpose of these challenges to stave off the boredom that's bound to set in when you're away from home for 6 months, isolated, without comforts and putting your life at risk most days, he still in charge, annoyance creeping into his narrowed eyes as 4 Section share some joke, though catching him watching, no glimmer of a smile on his face do they settle, only I catch the smile as he dips his head, his eyes focussing on the first question briefly, he doesn't need to look at it as he reads it out.

I scrunch up my face, exhaling a breath, I'm really not looking forward to this, sometimes I struggle with what day it is never mind general knowledge questions.

"What's the difference between sleeping gorillas and men?"

We all look blankly at each other, our heads going together, checking the other teams I can see that none of them know the answer, I then check the Boss, he's looking right at me, one eye raised as if I should know this. Brains, surely he's gonna' be our best bet, not me "What do you think Brains?" . Thankfully he's putting some thought into it, his logical mind working through the possible answers, I'm ill at ease, not enjoying the quiet even if it is contemplative. "Well in my opinion all you lads just snore and fart during the night, and if you're Mansfield shout out Manchester City or something like that"

"You're just upset Dawesy that I don't should out your name, ain't you?"

"I think our Molls has a point" Brains leans over, taking the pencil out of my hand, crossing through my No and writing Snores in his neat handwriting. I think i've been sacked already from my duty to be chief answer writer.

"Ready for the next question…." James doesn't wait for us to answer "Hippopotomonstrosesquippedaliophobia is the fear of what?"

"Can you spell that for us Sir?" The sniggering from 1 Section, in their opinion humour, quietens as the other teams start trying to work out the answer.

"Hippopotamuses using shittin' long words? jesus christ I'm rubbish at this" with amazement I watch Brains writing something down, thank god he's in our team, he's good. Unlike me we're only on question two and I'm gonna' give up, I'll maybe just watch the bossman instead.

"Come on lads, 1 minute and I'm moving onto the next question, some of us have early starts in the morning" That's us, the mountain patrol tomorrow to see if we shouldn't go there, madness or what, personally I quite fancy a duvet day instead. I'd hopefully thought that the quiz might be cancelled but the boss said that I would probably just spend my time worrying anyway so we were all as well to be busy, engaging our brains or something like that - what he failed to realise is I don't have one of them.

"Right" He pointedly raises his voice in the direction of 3 Section who are arguing, the panic of not knowing the answers so far showing, their lead from the other challenge slipping through their fingers. "Which English phrase is equivalent to _Ich liebe dich_ in German, _Eu te amo_ in Portuguese or _Za la ta sara meena kawom_ in our new favourite language of Pashto?"

Lowering my voice, not letting any of the other teams hear the one answer I know "It's I love you, Qaseem taught me it the other day" I don't admit that I might just have a mammary gland explosion at hearing those words come out of the Bossman's mouth, it's all too much, I'm beyond excited I know a bloody answer, "and Rihanna sang a song with them words on it"

Brains shakes his head "You little dark horse Molly"

"Tom's father has five sons named Ten, Twenty, Thirty, Forty. What would be the name of the fifth?" Fifty we all shout out in unison, Brains pencil pressed into the paper as we watch, his head tipping up towards us, he doesn't write, the pencil going into his mouth to be chewed.

"That's too easy" He turns the page over and writes down the question, turning the page so we can all read it, we now get it, our heads nodding, I think we might also have question 4.

"How many paintings did Vincent Van Gogh sell in his lifetime?"

"I ain't ever heard of him so I'd say none" My shouted out answer amuses everyone apart from Brains, he's too busy trying to remember something.

"You must have heard of Van Gogh, Dawes?" I jump at the voice behind me, unaware that he'd moved, my eyes move towards the holy grail in his hand, the spine of the book bent back as I try to read the answers, the page with the smallest writing ever in the history of the world moves back, out of reach "No point trying to cheat Dawes." His voice is amused, the low timbre unsettling, I can feel my face redden, whether 'cause he caught me trying to cheat or because I'm a female with needs, great needs at the moment I don't know.

"I were bleedin' not, just wanted to make sure you'd said it right 'cause I ain't heard of him, never seen any of his paintings and now don't care, don't see what's impressive about flinging some paints at a bit of paper. Sir" He knows I'm lying, I can see a dimple in his cheek "Anyway, the only bloke what paints I've ever heard of was that one that cut of his ear, and he must have been well shit"

"Eloquently put as always" He's fully smiling now, his hands placed on the table so my shoulder is making contact with his arm as he reads our answers to himself, his forehead raising as if he's surprised but he doesn't give anything away. I fight against the urge to lean into him, swallowing as his head turns towards me, his attention taken away from the piece of paper which is waiting for a number against question 5, his eyes crinkle, his mouth trying to keep in a laugh. No one's interested in us, Baz and Brains providing the entertainment as heatedly they discuss what they think is right. "And yes Van Gogh did cut off his ear so you have heard of him." His breath smells of coffee as he speaks, only just noticeable above the masculine cinnamony scent of his shower gel I presume, surreptitiously I try to inhale more, my nostrils flaring as I watch him with an innocent expression on my face, trying to pretend I'm not up to any nonsense.

"Sir, what's the next question?"

He pulls his attention away from me, his arm still resting against my shoulder as he answers. I don't move an inch, my body tense as I try and keep the connection but he shifts, standing back. I feel a coldness settling against me where he had been, I reach and smooth my hair trying to settle down the fighting bloody butterflies in my tummy. I ain't half got this bad.

* * *

There's a sense of the night before, that bit of excitement that makes you think that you might not sleep, that you'll see every hour of the clock and that this time tomorrow your life will have moved on, a little like Christmas; good like you got what you wanted from Santa or bad because your parents didn't listen to what you asked for and thought that at age 14 you'd be pleased with a space hopper. Obviously with tomorrow it will be good if Bashira and I are right and the Mountain CP is gonna' be under attack and bad if I'm wrong, I'm not even thinking of what else could go rotten, I might be sick if I do.

"Everyone okay about tomorrow" We're still sitting at the same table as we were for the quiz, he's sent the other sections away but we had to stay, waiting till he'd made himself a coffee before he came and joined us, his long frame tucked into the bench seats, his elbows resting on the table, he looks too tall, standing out from the rest of us even when he's seated.

"Will there be contact Sir"

"If the intel we've received is right then yes I'm sure there will be"

"And if it's wrong?" If 10 pairs of eyes hadn't focussed on me I wouldn't have believed that I'd asked the question, it sounded too distant to be from my mouth, though the words had been circling round my nut all day, a break whilst we'd played the quiz and then as soon as that was over it had returned; taunting me.

"Then we deal with that." The use of the word 'we' isn't lost on me, I lift the corners of my mouth up in acknowledgment and also appreciation, it's as if he's taking some of the pressure of me, his gaze rests on me for an interlude of time that's professionally probably too long, but in a heartbeat he's addressing everyone else, if I didn't have a bit of confidence in his feelings towards me I maybe wouldn't have noticed it but it's reassuring "I need you to all try and get a decent sleep, the usual, ensure you're hydrated." The nerves are beginning to show, the lads not as enthusiastic in their response, he must sense it, his eyes becoming darker as one by one he reaches us with his resolve "We work well together, we've got each others back and more importantly this is what we're trained for." Still we're not giving him the level of determination he requires, continuing in his motivational speech "I have confidence in all of you to do your job. This, if we're right is an opportunity to rid this village of Taliban. To do what we came here to do, we're prepared, we're organised, we have back up, we're in a very strong position. I'm confident and I want you all to be too." Nodding his head he acknowledges our more heartfelt 'yes sir', certain that he's raised us to the level he wants before he brings us back to the exact psychological belief he wants "I don't want any heroics from anyone, understood. Tomorrow night we will ALL be sitting here, having a congratulatory glass of fizz, well cola if the supplies arrive. Now sod off, I don't want to see any of you until 03:00."

"Yes Sir" The lads pat each other on the back, bless them, a dramatic speech from their leader and they're persuaded; they'll be safe with him. I'd feel that too if it wasn't my fault we were doing this tomorrow, I can't help let out a sigh, wishing it was the panic that by body was letting go off and not just some unneeded CO2, for the first night I'm thankful, that for once I won't be alone tonight.

"Dawes, a minute"

"Sir" He waits until we are by ourselves, only Smurf looking back with a hint of interest to see what he's missing, his face a picture of embarrassment as he turns and scuttles after the lads, I'm not sure what caused it, when I look up warm caramel eyes are watching me, his mouth slightly open, pulling his bottom lip between teeth as I struggle to hide my emotions; I want to be strong; to stand by my decision to tell him.

I can see his fingers flexing in his bunched up fists, safely ensconced under his armpits. "You alright?" , his question is surprisingly tender, as if he knows that it might take time he tilts his head, indicating the area we'd just removed ourselves from. Following him I watch as he takes my mug out of my hand, placing the milk and sugar in first before pouring boiling water in.

"I'm not gonna' be alright if you make my pissin' tea like that am I?" Everyone knows that you let the oxygen in the boiling water hit the tea bag, milk and sugar go in last.

"Didn't have you down as a tea connoisseur Dawes" Bemused, he stirs the liquid, waiting for it to go to the warm bronze colour I like "Here" our hands touch, it's not a jolt anymore, I'd describe it as an affirmation that he's alive, in my life and I'm alive to appreciate it. Sipping my tea I watch as he makes himself a coffee.

"I ain't but if you're gonna' do a job properly 'n' all that Sir"

He scrunches up his nose in amusement, he looks so young "Well then change your drink to coffee"

"One, I don't like the taste and two, I have little enough chance of getting a kip tonight without bleedin' caffeine pumping me up" The gulp of coffee that he just took is expelled from his mouth, his eyes lightening up with mischief. God knows what I've said now.

"Didn't think I'd ever be jealous of an inanimate drink" He looks away as he wipes his mouth on the back of his wrist, between you and me it's well sexy unlike me I'm sure, what with the false smile that's plastered on my face and the look of confusion that I'm sure is shining out my eyes.

Sighing I take another sip, watching the goings on around us, as much as we're alone there's no privacy, the lads on guard duty occasionally looking behind them, watching with boredom what's happening in the Fob rather than the arid, thankfully mundane land in front of them, I know 'cause when I'm on guard duty I spend more time Boss watching than anything else. "I'm shittin' myself Boss that it'll all go wrong tomorrow and I'll be to blame"

As always he doesn't just spout out the first thing that comes to mind, unlike me, he ponders, sounds it out in head "Did you not listen to a word I said?" I don't take offence, his words are more supportive than annoyed, a reminder that he's not putting any of this on me.

"Well bits, but I got bored, think you maybe need to work on your delivery, you know maybe use different accents to keep us listening"

"What, cockney one day, welsh the next… I'll think about it"

"Don't think you should even attempt a cockney accent, posh boy" Giggling like school kids, I elbow him, we haven't changed position, both resting against the catering table, I live for these moments with him "It would well be a step too far, you should start of with something easy 'n' then work your way up, you know Welsh, Geordie, get used to putting some effort in before you go for the good stuff"

"I'd probably need a good teacher as well, you know, someone who knows the Cockney slang, maybe some experience in teaching unsuspecting Afghans?" We both start sniggering; his attractive, mine threatening my nose to start running, together recalling Qaseem having told Azizi that it had all gone 'Pete Tong' when recounting the Bashira saga.

"It would cost you" I'm looking at him from under my eyelids, bordering on flirting, I'm thinking of payments other than the financial kind.

His voice is sinful, dropped to a level that if anyone was eavesdropping they wouldn't hear "We'd need to come to some agreement" . I think I'm liking the way he's thinking.

"Agreed Sir, but I am open to suggestions, 'cause what with the fact we can only get our hands on Afghan money well" I shrug not finishing off my sentence, he seems to ponder it looking away, only then his expression changing, the light behind his eyes changing as he coughs, moving away from me, only millimeters but it feels too much. I look trying to see what's caused the change to see Smurf walking towards us.

"Sir, Molly" he dips his head, waiting for us to leave him a space to fill up his travel cup, he looks wide awake as if he hasn't even tried to sleep, moving a step away I catch the look on the Boss's face, his jaw tense as he eyeballs Smurf, I wonder if it's the use of my first name "Can you not sleep either?" Finishing his tea making he turns, resting between us as if he was invited to join.

"As you are aware Smurf, I needed to speak to Dawes, go over some details for tomorrow" The words are forced from his mouth as if he resents having to waste breath, he drains his cup and I could happily murder Smurf just now, it was all going so well till he interrupted.

"See you both tomorrow"

"Sir" Smurf's acknowledgment is smug, mine disappointed, I feel as if I've been let down, that I've been cheated out of another 10 minutes of unadulterated fun with the added bonus of flirting. "You nervous about tomorrow?"

My problem is that I am, but it's not Smurf I want to talk to about it, the lone figure illuminated by the light from his tent as he pulls aside the cover is the one I want to reassure me, not this bloke with an inflated sense of honour towards me. Copying the previous action of the Boss, I drain my cup, the lukewarm liquid sliding down my throat, buying myself time, tipping the cup upside down as the final drops follow gravity, "Yeah, I am, the Boss was just giving me a pep-talk what with it being Bashira what told me, warning me that if she's there I've to keep away." The pompous smile that he's trying to keep in bursts through, he's happy with that answer, his suspicions being appeased with one easy lie. I can't for one moment have Smurf get suspicious. "Come on you wanker, it's time to hit our pit, think it's gonna be a long day tomorrow"


	12. Song choices

**The fingers seem to be having a wee mind of their own these days and hopefully will try and keep the updates coming fairly quickly, anyway I won't go on too much just to say thanks to ljkbananagirl and Jenmc for reading it throug for me and of course everyone that is reading this :)**

The noise keeps ringing in my ears, the finality of the explosion, my body tensing each time I replay it, the conflicting emotions that I had been right, the payoff; lives lost due to that. As I've done for the last hour, sitting cross legged on the bonnet of a landrover I watch the ops tent, not that long ago I'd been in there too; a final debriefing, relief in the top brass's words that we'd taken them out before they'd taken us out. I can't quite get a grasp on the satisfaction, it's like it keeps sliding out of my grasp, an emotion I can't yet appreciate, even if I did seem to impress the Major 'n' more importantly the Boss.

The Boss; I need him. Not Smurf who has been bugging my tits since we got back, instrumental in why I've pissed off out of the tent to get some me time; asking constantly if I'm alright, I'm not but I've lived long enough to hide it and anyway it's not all negative; far from it.

"Sir" I'm up and heading towards him, the moment he steps foot outside, he doesn't stop, smiling at me as he keeps walking. His long strides purposeful "What we singing?" His spare shirt is over his shoulder and I have a sneaky suspicion about where he's heading, I'm gonna' go there too.

"A classic Dawes"

He's being all secretive, that's not putting me off though, I need this distraction "What like, Beyonce and Jay-Z…"

"Who?" He laughs as he questions me, slowing down and turning to walk backwards.

"... Or Ed Sheeran and Taylor Swift?"

Backing into the gym he shakes his head at me. "You've still lost me" His hands are on the hem of his T-shirt, a grin on his face, he knows who I'm talking about, I bet it's one of them.

I lean against the frame of the makeshift porn gallery, twisting the canvas frays of the tent between my fingers. "I was thinking though, you know that one what they used in Dirty Dancing, Up where we belong or something like that? We could well do that?"

The cotton in his hand hides for a minute his scrunched up entertained features as he lifts the fabric over his head, giving me at least 2 seconds to do some serious ogling. I don't know why he's looking all smug at me as he rolls his old t-shirt into a ball, anyway bet you I could wipe that expression of his face if I whipped off my t-shirt, well if I didn't have my old grey sports bra on. "Don't think I've had the pleasure of seeing that film?"

"More of a Terminator kinda bloke are you Sir?"

"No"

"Or a …"

"Dawes" He sounds as if he's trying to get my attention back, as if for some reason he's lost me for a minute.

"What?" Slowly I let my focus work it's way back up his body, I've seen it before, but it's important to refresh your memory, to count each ab and I'd forgotten that he had a smattering of chest hair, just enough, if I look closely enough I can see the fine trail that's leading down to…. god I can't believe there was a time that he was over me and thrus…..

"If I had maybe seen a clip of that song, you are not for one moment suggesting that we should attempt that lift are you?"

"Well yeah, the lads would love it" I can see it now, though it's not the lift I'm looking forward to the most, it's that bit on the way back down when I'm sliding down his body. "We'd be wicked"

He leans forward, which is a bad move 'cause I can smell the sweat, the musky scent from our stressful, hot day sticking to the inside of my nose, it's oddly erotic, I almost jump when he speaks, his voice breaking into my thoughts "If I remember correctly, you were unable to jump on my back, never mind get from the ground to my upheld arms"

"Yeah well you didn't try 'n' help me then did you…. and you were pissed?"

"I was kneeling on the ground" He tries to keep his voice low, conscious that anybody could hear, the T-Shirt in his hand used to wipe under his oxters, before he discards it to the side, sitting down on the bench press, looking up at me and smiling.

"I managed that"

He's laughing now, a deep chuckle that's playing companion to the shaking of his head as he leans back, settling under the weight bar. "We will just need to disagree on that then Dawes won't we?"

"So can we sing that then Sir" My tone is hopeful.

"No"

"What are we singing then?"

The weight bar is above his head, biceps flexing as he tries to hold it up before he drops it back down with a sigh, sitting back up, scratching the back of his neck, he watches me not saying anything, his gaze for a moment dropping to my mouth. self consciously I release my bottom lip from where I had been gnawing it, contemplating how to keep this conversation going. He tips his head to the side, his eyes hooded, I think I've maybe pissed him off 'cause he's looking at me really intently. "I don't know about you, but I could really do with getting rid of some steam, is there any chance you could piss off, Dawesy?

-xx-

I've given up with my sleeping quarters, the constant replaying of the day jarring me with, tossing and turning I'd lay listening to the wankers go on and on about it; I think possibly Baz is thinking about joining the airforce when he gets back so he can fly a fighter jet.

I've given up with the Med-tent 'cause Smurf came and found me there, not taking my answer that I was alright and feeling the need to keep me company, he even tried to put his bleedin' arm round me - does he not realise I'm not really a touchy feely person. So here I am on the roof of the shitter. Cold, emotional and a sore arse for sitting so long. I could possibly be in trouble for this, Bossman had been shouting for me not that long ago but I didn't want him to see me having yet another emotional breakdown, he'd think I wasn't up to the job. Anyway 2 shouts and he'd given up, if he'd really wanted me he'd have got all arsy and sarcastic, instead he's obviously gone back to his tent.

The letter in my hand is shaking, the words blurring not that it matters, I know it off by heart, I've even gone as far as sniffing the paper, imagining I could smell the cooking fat and fag smoke of our house.

"Here" The voice is soft, barely above a whisper, as if he was unsure about whether to disturb me, it still makes me jump, one finger extended to wipe a tear from my chin before he hands me my cup. Sitting a respectable distance away from me. I try to hide my surprise that he's here, that he's joined me, instead sipping the hot comforting liquid. "Do you want to talk?" Now that's how you put it, not 'are you alright', 'everything okay' or my Welsh friend's favourite 'Tell Smurfy and he'll help you Dawesy". Straight away I want to open up, to share some of my baggage of the day.

"I've never seen a dead person before" Whispering I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to keep out the memory, the eyes that stared at me but held nothing in them, the waxy faces that were devoid of character. I'd freaked at first, recoiling in horror till yet again he had been there, saying nothing but placing himself between us. Us there was no us - I was alive and the insurgent was dead - Charles had pressed his forefingers against the vacant eyes, closing them for the final time, an act of respect. For me, he briefly touched me on the shoulder, a reassurance, stepping back and starting to issue instructions, his voice stable against the conflicting emotions, from 2 Sections euphoria to ANA's self reproach, no matter what, this was Civil War to them, it was still their fellow countrymen they had killed, even if there was a hatred there. Divided in War, united in death as one of the young Afghans had quoted to Qaseem. If this was hard for me then it was fucking harder for them. At that moment I'd shaken myself, realised this wasn't my grief to feel and I'd started identifying the bodies, returning to the professional soldier that I was, the anger starting when I realised HE wasn't one of them. In my mind there was no suggestion that he wasn't Taliban, if Bashira knew about this then it had come from HIM.

He keeps quiet, the wind that has picked up the only sound between us, the words to ask why he's here haven't come, it's wrong, we're breaking rules but I don't want to remind him, don't want to make him reconsider: I need him. The tea that he has brought me perfect to my tastebuds, I can't even think of something witty to lighten the mood.

As I take another sip of the perfection he's made, I know that he's going to speak, the silent pronunciation of words he's yet to say hanging in the air. Instinctively my head turns towards him, for a brief moment looking down at our hands that are separated by less than a finger width, needing the tactileness of touch I stretch my pinky till his is beside mine, mirroring the difference in our statures, whether he's ready to speak or if I've given him the confidence, his voice rings clear in the air "I always think that the soul has left a body" His finger interloops mine causing a lump to form in my throat "I'm not saying I believe in the easy option of heaven and hell but there's something else, a body can't lose the character that's defined them for years just because a heart's stopped beating, lungs have stopped taking in air, even when in our eyes they are the enemy, when we can't understand why they would want to cause such harm" Even in the dark I can make out the shift of his eyes, the change in emotions, it's as if he's fighting to hold something back what I don't know, he's too strong "They would have killed you Dawes, they would have killed us and they wouldn't have stopped there. I'm glad they're dead and not you."

"You must be pissed off with me, always throwing a wobbly, I thought I was alright until I had to close my eyes and then well.."

"When do you ever throw a wobbly?" He sounds surprisingly incredulous.

"After Smurf"

"God's sake Molly it's understandable, this is War, you've not had a bad day in the office when a stock check of papers clips has been wrong, nothing can prepare you for it, no-one knows how they're going to react and it's far healthier to find someone and talk, I didn't find today easy either, I would be more worried if you did."

I don't know what to say to that, looking back up at the stars as I take a sip of my tea, then I remember something "Asked back home for them to send me a book on the stars, you know what with me wanting to learn something"

"Has it arrived?"

Tears are filling up my eyes again, obscuring my view of the wonder above us that we're talking about, he's patient as he waits for my answer, not rushing me "Yeah, and according to it today was a good day to be frivolous and bear the fruits of my labour"

The misplaced noise beside me starts as a soft chuckle, increasing as my tears start to fall but my pain becomes lighter, the unattractive wet snort from me coinciding with the shaking of his shoulders, taking him in I see glistening in his eyes, I'm not sure that they're not just from humour, black humour, the living soul's way of surviving something like today. I almost jump as an arm is placed around me, pulling me against him and a soft kiss is placed against my forehead, his lips stay there, creating a joining between us, I don't move, well okay my hand maybe strays onto his thigh to balance myself but you can't blame me right?

"I'll buy you a book okay?"

"Yeah though it had better have lots of pictures" I crave this contact, my hand lacing round his waist, his hand drops to span my ribs, this is the hug I've been waiting on, and it's fucking perfect.

"Don't think you can have a book about stars without images Dawes" His lips have to leave my head to speak, the payoff being that his hand has found mine and is stroking it, a rhythmical reassuring contact. "You know that's the milky way don't you" He doesn't remove the contact he's built up his head only marginally moving in the vague direction of the sky.

"I think so, I suppose it's that kind of funny bit what you can see?"

"Maybe we should get you a telescope, there's billions of stars in there"

"Sir, do you have feelings for me" One beat, two beats, three beats, four beats, five beats of my thumping heart before he answers:

"Nope, not one, I had no ulterior motive in getting the lads out of their pits and putting them on a charge for their frankly disgusting, disrespectful celebration after we had taken out the insurgent cell, a charge that will keep them busy in their tent for I don't know - another 5 minutes" I don't mention it but I can specifically remember him being the instigator of a fair few high fives himself "and also just out of a matter of courtesy did I check with Bastion that the Major arrived there safely"

"That were nice of you with the Major, thoughtful"

"Yes I thought so too, though if I were to have feelings for you, you know that I wouldn't act on them, I can't believe I'm bloody doing this" I feel him tensing, his muscles pulling against me fractionally, I'm not ready for him to go.

"Can I just say Sir?"

"If you must"

I don't take offence, his tone wary rather than rude "See that 2 minutes before you said the name of the person what you were gonna' sing a duet with, it were like being on the bleedin' X factor"

He relaxes into me again, his grip comfortingly now at my hip "What the 2 minutes following my announcement that I was going to need a female volunteer?"

"Yeah that's the one" A yawn escapes, stretching my jaw till I think I might split the corner of my lip, the day catching up on me "I'm glad you chose me" His chest is surprisingly comfortable to rest against, the reverberations of his laugh close to my ear to make me feel even closer to him.

"We'll rehearse tomorrow, I'll impress you with my talent at the majestic art of singing"

"Calm down mate, you had me at, Charles"

"Fuck sake, you're sniggering again." His mouth is in my hair, his shoulders shaking against me, I think we both feel better for this time together, maybe I have helped him "Are you ever going to be able to say my name without fucking laughing"

"Yes, I'll practice, I promise"

He takes his hand of my hip, looking at his watch, "1 more minute Molly then back to normality okay?" The hand is replaced, a slight tug to pull me closer to him.

"Yes Charles" I don't want to ever let him go, and I mean ever, my hand grasping his waste that bit tighter wishing I could grab onto time, holding onto it, allowing us to have longer together.


	13. Dress Rehearsals

**Sorry for the late update, against my will I do have to work which I think is very unfair because I know my true talents lie in lazying about with a laptop on my knee, multi-tasking as I chat to the boys and drink my weight in liquid of either the tea or alcohol variety. Really really really big thank you for reading….**

"What's the matter?" His back to me, head bowed with concentration, not looking as he asks the question, too interested in turning the pages to be bothered with my answer. Once he's happy with how he's placed the dog eared score on the keyboard he turns, clasping his hands together, his eyes illuminated with excitement, as if he's fired up about this. If **I** was gonna' use the word 'excited' it would be in the past tense, my attention span already left the room, or the makeshift 'rehearsal room' in the med tent, which according to him won't help the 'acoustics' whatever the fuck they are. "Spit it out then Dawes"

"Do you not think it's a bit, I dunno crap" Surprise registers in his expression, crossing his arms, a ghost of a smile briefly lightening up his face. I wonder if now's the time to admit to him that any singing I've done has been down the Earl when I'm pissed, belting out Katy Perry's Price Tag "And anyway who the hell is Ricky Dee, can't believe you're getting me to sing a blokes song"

Doing that boy thing he turns to Dangles as if they're sharing a sense of humour, aka laughing at me, they don't even try to hide it. Tell you what I'm really seeing a shit side of the boss today, I can't wait until I well and truly wipe the smile of his face by opening my gob and doing my impersonation of a cat; in pain. "Kiki Dee Dawes, Kiki. Believe you me she was all female, an adolescent boy's fantasy" The wistful tone turns into a sigh, looking into the distance like my teachers used to do when they talked about the chance of teaching at any other school other than ours "Fair bit older than me of course."

"She must be well ancient then?" I scoff, the bitter tone of jealousy only softened by my newly found confidence in him, he still hears it, an arrogant smirk noticeable from his sideways stance as he takes an interest in the tune that Dangles is nimbly playing. "Bet you she didn't have a patch on Justin Timberlake though Sir". The music stops, a snort of amusement from the keyboard player as he looks up turning his attention to both of us.

The Boss moves his head side to side in humour, exaggeratedly slowly, when he looks at me his eyes are unclouded, as if I can see every emotion in them; happiness and fondness my favourite - reflected straight back through my eyes to him. I'm lost, another unexpected moment of my life where I'm happy where I am, who I am, managing to put aside that I'm in a war zone and at some point will need to wake up from this dream. He pouts, drawing his eyebrows together in mock seriousness as I giggle, he looks at our accompanier or Goose-berry as I think I might start calling him, a surprised glance as if for a moment he'd forgotten he was there before he clears his throat, pulls his shoulders back, the authority returning to his presence. "Can you play the first verse Dangles" Both eyebrows are raised conspiratorially in my direction, including me in the emotions from his temporary memory lapse, biting his lip as the music starts to take over.

I feel like one of them guppy fish, my mouth opening and closing at what just came out of his mouth. "You didn't tell me you could sing?" I'm accusing as I speak, annoyed that I've been duped like this. There's no words to describe the perfectionism of sound that he's created , I didn't think it was possible to fancy him more; but it is, I just did. I think I'm up to 999 million % now.

He's confused, looking at me as if I've got two heads for some reason. "Of course I can sing, everybody can sing?"

"Not like that, I'm gonna' well make a tit of myself" Self consciously I cross my arms over my chest, I don't think any sound is ever gonna' come out of my mouth again, he's rubbing his hand against his stubble, the scratching breaking the silence as I try to put words together, I look to Dangles for support but he's oblivious, checking through music sheets, turning my attention back to the Boss, I look at him, imploring, begging him to put me out of my misery "That's not fair, it's like, like, like when you think you're just having a bit of a kick about with your mates and bleedin' David James goes in goals"

"Just bloody sing your words Dawes" He doesn't get this, maybe he's never been insecure of anything in his life, standing up in front of a load of guys and singing is a normal day occurrence. He starts again, finishing his line, a smirk on his face when he's sang his five words, I'm only now picking up my typed up lyrics, studying them, huffing noisily, listening to Dangles playing the same notes over and over in the hope that I'll make my first step into a pop career or pop mortification more like. "Whenever suits you Dawes" His sarcastic tone at my time wasting isn't lost on me.

"I think Sir, it might be a good idea,if you know you sing it the whole way through yourself first, just so I can get the vibe"

"The vibe?"

"Yeah you know, timing 'n' all that, so I don't come in wrong" There's nothing on the back of my page which is a shame as I could have spent time reading that too, putting off the inevitable, I turn it back, trying not to read the words and putting too much meaning into them, after all he hasn't chosen this song specifically, having sang this all the way through training according to the lads. "And gonna' run this past me again, you sing one line…"

"You sing the next, easy Dawes" Looking over at Goose-berry he nods his head, the notes now becoming familiar.

"...Just one more thing Sir"

Tipping his head back he studies the ceiling, looking a bit pissed off when he brings his attention back to me. "What? Make it quick, we don't have all day. We are actually here to fight a war."

"Are you able to supply me with some form of alcohol, 'cause I think I might need it, for my vocal chords 'n' that"

"Piss off Dawes. Now, I'm going to sing my line and then you're going to sing your line, got that? Or I will have no hesitation in putting you up on a charge"

"No need to get arsey about it, I was only asking." Raising my eyebrows I pull a disgusted face, catching the look on the Boss's face "Sir"

He smiles at me, acknowledging my too late respect "That's better." Putting his hand on my elbow he pulls me over, stopping when I'm a foot away from him and letting go, his eyes never leaving Goose-berries "Now after 3, I don't think we worry about keys Dangles? Do you?"

This really is a pile of shit "Well how's he gonna' bleedin' play then?" I had really hoped to sing quieter than the tune that Dangles is playing, that way nobody would be able to hear me.

"The key of the song, not the keys of the keyboard?"

"That don't make sense."

"Dawes" Barely concealed frustration pours out of him, moving so he's towering above me, his finger and thumb marginally apart "I am this close to losing the bloody plot. Do you want me to replace you with Mansfield?"

"Thought you'd never ask Sir. Can I go?" We have a momentary standoff as I smile at him, my finger pointing to the exit. I think I've won this battle, the prospect of sitting watching those hips in action from a safe advantageous position looming in front of me like a kid on Christmas Eve knowing that Santa is coming soon.

"No." Fixing his gaze on me, holding it, I can feel the pressure to blink building but I'm not giving in, suddenly he smiles, a ghost of wink and reassuring bump of his shoulder as the music starts up. He waits, completely relaxed, timing perfect, his voice pitched perfectly, moving effortlessly over each word, the sound clear, and it's my worst fear, it's as if he's singing it to me.

"I couldn't if I tried" I'm hesitant, the panic closing up the back of my throat so I sound as if someone is strangling me.

"Honey if I get restless" His line is sung with an encouraging nod of his head in my direction, hips swinging, an imaginary microphone in his hand, it helps, I can feel a smile lifting the corners of my mouth, a nervous bubble of hilarity starting to make it's way up.

"Baby you're not that kind"

Holding up his hand he stops Dangles, a huge grin on his face, "What was all that bloody fuss about?"

"I can't sing"

"You just did"

"Yeah well it sounded all wrong"

"No it didn't"

"Did it not?"

"No, it was perfect"

"Perfect?"

"Yes" I'm in love, he stand's, his hand resting on the bed his hip relaxed bringing our heights closer together, looking at me as if he's proud of me. It's a moment, a bleedin' perfect moment until Goose-Berry absent mindlessly whistles the tune, reminding us that he's still in the room. Automatically the Boss straightens, turning with guilt, then relief as Dangles pays no attention to us, he rubs the back of his neck, looking at me shiftily " For someone who's had no training, is fighting a bloody war and scared shitless" His voice drops marginally, warm comprehending eyes meet mine "Yeah perfect"

"Thank you Sir"

He doesn't let me rest on my laurels, instructing Goose-berry to start again. "Don't go breaking my heart"

As the words "You take the weight off me" appear magically and almost musically from my mouth I audibly sigh, I can't help it, persuading myself that there's a question in there, obviously there's not, it's a line from a song not a heartfelt declaration of love from a man who's grinning at me, his body fluid in it's movement with the beat of the song.

"Honey when you knock on my door"

"I gave you my key" It doesn't seem to matter that I've got my hand on his wrist, holding him steady to me, taking courage from the contact, the collision in the energy between us, or whatever causes that excitement of life that happens when I'm about him. A defining moment in my life, a stolen precious fragment that's unbelievable in the dry arid war torn foreign land of the Fob.

As he nods to Dangles, the accompanist accurately reading his instruction and stilling his hands against the black and white keys as silently instructed, the Boss tucks his shirt back in, the movement of his body having caused the sloppy dress code, shoulders hunched belying the youthful grin on his face as he watches me, watching him.

"Chorus Dawes"

The biting of his lip as I nod my head is nearly an undoing of me, I don't know how I keep in my groan of hunger for him, the sound stuck at the back of my throat. There's been many a time in my life I've shut the door of my sister and I's bedroom, letting out a loud scream of frustration, hurt or anger; today I want to shut myself somewhere and groan loudly and for ages with built up frustration, though I think at the end of the day only something else might help and we all know what I'm talking about.

"Dawes?" There's a cheeky amusement on his face at my lack of focus, a laugh exhaled as I look embarrassed, trying to clear my head of the thought of him, my mind treacherously recalling the scent of his aftershave, the heat of his fingers as they slowly made their way down, trailing from behind my ear, caressing every inch of my skin until they reached where I wanted them to, my hips arching up towards him, his body, hard, finely perfectly honed for a substantial f….."

"Dawes" This time he crosses his arm, chuckling, his eyebrows half way up his forehead as he tries to work out what's going on, then a cloud crosses his face, now looking at me with sympathy, dropping his gaze to his boots, looking back up "You're thinking about Bashira, aren't you?"

How the fuck could he have got it so wrong "Yes Sir" I'm not gonna' tell him the truth am I? Anyway I do worry about her, every minute that I'm not thinking about him, which isn't as little as it sounds.

"We have a duty of care to her"

"Do we?"

"Yes, we do, but it's not for you to worry about okay?" I watch his hand as it comes towards me, stopping inches from my shoulder, going back to it's place under his armpit as he exhales, watching me intently "You are going to keep practising."

"Okay Sir" I honestly think if he suddenly changed his mind and asked Mansfield to sing with him I would storm the stage and take out the Derby County loving ginger haired twat in one flowing movement, taking up my rightful place next to the Boss. It's good that I've got a control of my emotions.

He turns away from us, spotting the pictures that I have of Bella on the metal shelving, I wait for my row, that this isn't the place for personal keepsakes but he doesn't "Right you two piss off and get some scoff" When I reach the flap, holding it back and turning he's still staring at the picture, a look of worry on his face. Now I really am shitting myself about Bashira.

-og-

I've found recently that my sleep is getting lighter, the tension of theatre becoming the norm, my body now never truly relaxing. The dreams I have can vary, colourful reflections replayed of the landscape, the people or even vivid sounds. The grainy images that I can't piece together the most unsettling often waking me up, disturbed, often homesick, the sound of the lads snoring calming me down and making me realise that I'm glad that I've got company that I wouldn't have liked to be by myself.

It's that feeling that I'm lying awake with, cocooning myself in my sleeping bag against the cold air and the darkness, at first I presume that one of the lads has got up, waiting to hear the swearing as they make their way to the shitter but it's boots, the hard sound on the flooring unlike the soft padding of bare feet until they find their footwear, I almost jump as a hand is placed on my shoulder, an unexpected voice saying my name as I'm gently shook.

I'm sitting up before I know it, facing him, not that I can see him in the darkness, only making out the white of his eyes, wide with surprise at the sudden closeness of our bodies. I can smell his breath, the bitterness of his last coffee, comforting me and taking away a fraction of my panic at being woken up in the middle of the night "Ops tent now" His voice authoritative even in the whispered instruction.

"What do I do.." I'm not sure of the protocol, my hair disobeying the Queen's regulations if I've to be on duty, my West Ham top not exactly uniform, stopping him from leaving as his eyes scrutinise me before meeting mine again.

"As you are Dawes" And then he's away, stealthily making his way from my quarters, leaving me to find my boots in the darkness, jesus this ain't gonna' be good.


	14. Consequences of a blast

**Thanks for sticking with this and thanks for taking the time to read, sometimes when I'm struggling I click onto readers and get some motivation from the readers and the diversity of countries so hello everyone :) Also to those that review, at one low point a lovely review popped up and warmed the fingers to spew out a few more words. I do appreciate all your support and hope this isn't too far fetched for you. cheers you lovely lot xx**

"What the fuck were you thinking Dawes"

Now, that weren't what I expected him to say, I think he maybe gets that what with my gob hitting of the rough floor of where we had set up the temporary med centre to treat the effects of the blast on the lads and some of the villagers. My surprise doesn't seem to stem the tide of atmosphere that's rolling off him towards me. I follow his line of sight, out through the small window allowing us to take in the village, a surprising normality to the daily life going on even with the horror of what happened this morning.

"I gave you an order" His tone is flat, not a shred of warmth as he stands against the doorway, his hand fisted, bouncing rhythmically off the sill of the window as if he's trying to keep control of his actions and thoughts. "Did you miss that day at training? Did you not bother turning up?" At that question I realise how angry he is, his eyes are hard, staring straight at me. There's nothing to indicate that we have become friends, flirters, no hint that he's worried about how I'm feeling after witnessing a young child being used as an unwilling martyr; that I could have died. He's a professional soldier, emotions trying to be kept under wraps.

"No Sir, I didn't miss that day"

"So why didn't you obey?" The tone borders on threatening, he's now walking over towards me, still the fire of anger in his eyes, making me take a step back away from him. "Why didn't you listen to a fucking word I said" He ignores my attempt at keeping a distance from him, invading my personal space, staring down his nose at me. I'm not used to this.

"I wanted to keep her calm Sir" I'm aware I'm swallowing, nervously, not having an effect on him as I tip my head back, staring up at him.

A sarcastic scorn takes over his face, ageing it "So you thought you knew best?"

"No Sir, but if I hadn't…." I blink against the vision of her face, her eyes wide, too big for her face, young innocent tears spilling over, how could you comprehend when your 11 that your dad is trying to murder you, for an idealistic cause, how do you ever get over that. I doubt if I'll ever get over it. It has to be the most horrific situation I"ve ever dealt with and really all I want is for him to put his arms around me, to feel his body heat, his heart thumping and know that I'm still alive, that he's still alive. "She might have died, been red misted" I say the words quietly, trying to calm him down with my voice. It's fine he's stressed I'm sure he needs time, putting my arm up towards him, my hand looking for contact, I freeze as he jolts back as the thought of me touching him seems to fill him with disgust.

There's silence for a few minutes as he tries to compose himself, his body placed away from me, his hand scratching his chin, I don't have much to do, standing awkwardly having already packed nearly everything away - saline solution, sterile gauze and eye drops sitting the only audience to this discussion, the rest of the section safe in the troop carrier. "Do you know how much harder you made my job out there" Now he's looking at the ceiling, exhaling a breath, it's ragged not controlled. I wait to see if he's going to make eye contact, holding off until I realise that he has no intention of it, then answering.

"I thought I'd made it easier, what with her not gonna' ….. "

"I'm your Commanding Officer Dawes, I don't think you get that." It's not a question for me to answer, more of a rhetoric intense realisation.

"Of course I do, I respect you Sir"

"Not enough to listen to what I tell you. I had a job to do out there, it wasn't us that put that belt round her Dawes, it wasn't us who sent her out to be blown up taking as many of us out as possible at the same time." His hand is gesticulating on each word, embellishing each phrase "If anything had happened to her it wouldn't have been because of us, yes we could save her, at the very least have tried, we're trained to do that but her father was the one who put her in the line of danger. You didn't deserve to die because of that."

"But Sir, it was because of me…"

"WHEN ARE YOU GOING TO GET IT?"

"Sir"

"There was more chance of her dying because you put yourself in danger. How was I meant to stay focussed with you standing there. Jesus." At that it becomes too much for him, he turns away, his hands running through his hair, his breathing has become erratic until he controls it, hands on his hips, returning to face me, a determined look on his face. "When we get back there will be a summary hearing for a Charge. I don't want to see you or hear from you for an indeterminable amount of time."

"What?"

"You heard me Private"

"So what you gonna' do, take away my privileges, put a financial charge on me, 'cause there ain't no point" I swallow against the emotion that's building up in me, not tears but panic, fear that I've ruined everything between us. Truth be told it's that he's angry enough to not want to see me that I can't cope with, anytime away from him an unfair punishment. "I don't have anyone who's that fussed whether they hear from me or not and apart from wanting to buy a bloody book on stars so that I can keep up with you, try and be a bit intelligent I don't have anything I want to buy so that's not going to have any effect."

"You won't be taking part in the entertainment this evening Private"

What? No? "Fine if that's what you want, but I don't think that's fair"

"Sir" He spits it out, I can feel a residue of his anger landing on my cheek, I don't dare wipe it off.

"Sir"

His long legs are striding out of the small cool room, I can feel the panic of being by myself starting to rise, then he stops, his shoulders are still slouched as if he's too tense to straighten, then he's facing me, a sneer on his face, his eye, red puffy still untreated, for the first time that I've known him he looks dangerous, a flicker of fear starts somewhere, then I swallow it away, he would never hurt someone without a reason but it doesn't mean he isn't furious, that he doesn't want to cause a reaction. "Do you know what's not fair" He almost barks the last word, even with the distance between us my body jerks back a fraction, I don't make the mistake of answering the rhetorical question "Looking at a mother who's son has died whilst in your care, the guilt, the remorse that you didn't do anything differently that she's never going to see her child again, hold them, argue with them even. All because the enemy got lucky, they were in the right place, not us. Night after night you can't sleep, your section can't sleep because they keep reliving it, wishing, cursing themselves that they let it happen, that one of the team is gone. You never get over it, never"

"I'm sorry Sir"

He shakes his head, not believing that I am, he's right I still don't get it, I'm only sorry that he's hurting, that he had hurt and that I hadn't been there to help him. He starts towards me, his movement purposeful, I have a moment where I think he's going to grab me, shake me then my back connects with the wall, the weight of him propelling me into the hard stone causing air to escape from my lungs, at this my chin tips up with the movement, his lips connect with mine, his feet placed on the other side of mine, trapping me though I have no plans to go anywhere.

There's nothing gentle about the kiss, it's bruising, I can't keep up, don't try he's moving too quick, he doesn't even try to part my lips, that would maybe decrease the pressure, or be a step too far I'm not sure. When I look at his face it's screwed up, a tear falling from his injured eye, the anguish that he's feeling still doesn't sit easy with me, that I've caused it and I take the opportunity of him being diverted by my lips to brush my hand against a recent tear, causing him to draw in a breath, or even a sob, his eyes opening, looking at me, fear, then he's closed off to me again, moving away, I can't get my arms round him, our respective flak jackets getting in the way but I grip, not caring if I break a nail, as a substitute he places his forehead against mine, biting his lip, chewing it, his breathing hard. I need to say something but I don't know what, then I do "I'm safe and I'm so so sorry, I get it now" My hands are on his cheeks, my thumb trailing across his cheekbones, then his hands are covering mine, a kiss placed on my neck, tilting my head so he can make more connect, he then changes his mind, our lips connecting again, this time he's gentle, probing, waiting on me opening my mouth before his tongue probes, still a question to the movement, causing me to groan the sound echoing back to me. He breaks off again.

His mouth hovers over mine, as he starts to whisper, the words only for me "I would never have forgiven myself, I don't think I could have lived with myself." He watches me, as if he's worried that he's said the wrong thing, his eyes going down to my lips, a ghost of a smile appears as I stand on my tiptoes, reassuring him as we connect again, I know we have to stop but I don't want to, we fit, this makes sense, I need this after the horrors of the day and of course I'm undeniably in love.

It takes a moment for me to realise that he's trying to pull back, the sound of a soft laugh as I struggle to find my centre of gravity without him, his hands going onto my hips to steady me, they don't move straight away, waiting till I've recovered, till I'm watching him my focus clear, waiting for him to say something and then he steps back. His hand going to the back of his neck, long fingers kneading, pulling, then they pause "I didn't mean for that to happen, I'm sorry."

"You apologising to me, think that's a bit wrong"

Eyes that are brighter than before look at me, well one eye, the other is half shut, protecting itself, his mouth opens, a flicker of amusement "Not very professional and I think that's what got us into this discussion in the first place." I pull my bottom lip into my mouth, embarrassed now about our row, fingers tug gently on my chin until I release it, looking up, hopefully I smile at him "That can't ever happen again"

"Ever?"

"Well not here, not when you're in my chain of command, not when lives depend upon it"

"I understand"

"We would both be dishonourably discharged for that"

"I know, it won't happen again, I promise, I'll even forget it ever happened. Anything ever happened between us."

His eyebrows rise up in surprise, again he pauses, stills, contemplates what he's going to say, his mouth opening whilst his tongue rolls round and then he looks at me, an unexpected fervour in his gaze "I'll not forget that it happened, I can't get out of my mind that night that we had. It's almost torturing me, the feel of you… I need to believe that once we're out of this hell hole that I can have you again, and I can't if you get yourself killed. Understand?"

"Think you've just given me the bestest reason ever for staying alive"

The sound of him chuckling is music to my ears, his embarrassed look, the hint of a blush on his cheekbones letting me know that everything's gonna' be alright between us. "Don't suppose you could have a look at this eye for me?"

I can't deny there is still a hint of tension between us, impossible for there not to be after having been through so many emotions in one day I suppose, our souls slightly damaged, never mind the fear that we've overstepped the mark, that we can't take back what just happened even though we don't want to. The routine of doing my job helps, one side of my mouth playing ball and not lifting upwards giving me a lopsided, semi professional grin, it's the best I can hope for, when I look at him, he grins like a schoolboy, dipping his head then sitting back up with a straight face, one eyebrow raised in a challenge to see how I'm going to deal with this; the proximity between us again. Without asking he tips his head back, a minimal smirk when I push his legs to the side, not trusting myself to stand between them, my body still humming an internal tune from our earlier tryst "Am I still not getting to sing with you Sir" He's a good patient waiting, giving time for the liquid to drain his eye before straightening back up and blinking, I know he's not going to sugarcoat it for me it's not his style, shutters come down before he answers:

"Only if you bloody promise not to lay one finger on me Dawes, or look at me or do anything suggestively" The drawled words are finished with a wink, this time it's me that's blushing.

-og-

"Get one of the famous Captain James bollockings, did we Dawes?"

Sitting down, I pull my seatbelt across watching as the Bossman athletically steps into the truck behind me, he looks at Smurf having heard the question, fleetingly a dip appearing between his eyebrows.

"Yeah something like that"

Smurf moves over towards me, bumping his shoulder against mine "Never a nice experience is it?"

"What?"

"A Captain James one to one"

For the first time in my life words fail me, a shrug the only answer that Smurf will get.


	15. Yes Sir

"Supposedly 3 Section failed there's" The information offered by Brains isn't helpful, as we all scurry about trying to get tidied up, the announcement that there would be a kit inspection in 30 minutes at first received with naive disbelief, socks and other items getting thrown at Kinders, then the dawning realisation that he was being serious, socks and other items hastily getting picked back up. The lethargic atmosphere in the tent changing, respect being shown to our Corp which has been, if I'm truthful a bit lacking with the slightly more relaxed atmosphere of the FOB. I think we're all in a panic, yesterday had been a strange day for all of us, though I hope that I was the only one that had the Bossman's lips attached to them, not that I'm complaining that he did break a few, in my opinion badly thought out rules, but my mind was somewhat elsewhere when I'd given my rifle a once over when we came back. At the time I'd known it wasn't good enough, promising myself that I'd do it properly later but then there had been the duet and well, even when I think of it now I can feel my face starting to heat up. The looks, the winks, the hips gyrating and jesus christ the mic swinging, I always think that I can't fancy him anymore and then I spend more time with him, the lust 'o' meter going of the bleedin' scale, I suppose it's gone past the point of fancying now more like planning my entire life with him. My suggestion of us being a double act 'Dawesy and Jamesy' went down like a lead balloon, like I'd insulted him, for a moment I'd feared, panicked that I was reading too much into this then he'd grinned, wickedly, apparently it's got to be 'Jamesy and Dawesy' what with his natural affinity with the medium of song or some shit like that. I'm thinking kids in about 20 years once we've got enough practice in.

"Do you think I've got time to clean my rifle?" My bed is perfect, my kit laid out, my rifle gleaming on the outside, a contradiction to the grim that'll be lurking inside, lying there waiting for me to pick it up, almost as if it's mocking me as I stand looking at it, taking my attention away to watch the lads, all of them scurrying about, nobody stopping to answer me. I can tell that Smurf is being all cocky, a pride on his face as he looks at the assorted items in front of him, Baz like me is nervous, scratching the back of his head as he takes his beret off to replace it again, he's done it three times now, never feeling that it's perfect. I don't think any of us want to fail him. I don't want to fail him, and I'm nervous about how he's gonna' be with me, constantly waiting on my hopes to be shattered. We've never really had the chance to chat, to talk about what he said, it's all a bit up in the air to be honest. "Probably not" Quietly I answer myself with a sigh, taking my beret off and smoothing my hair, I'd never admit this but I wonder for a minute about putting some of my tinted lip gloss on but at that the flap of the tent is lifted and Kinders comes, followed by the Boss, waiting until we're standing at attention.

Obviously I'm bloody first, my self chosen spot at the start of the tent to try and get the fresh air to cancel out the smell of their farts unfortunate for this. I don't want to be the first to fail, everyone remembers that; the first person is the lucky charm, a talisman for the rest of the inspection. My hand replaced by my side, I couldn't even look at him properly as I saluted. The hairs on my neck are standing to attention, mimicking my body language as he goes behind me, I can smell him, sense him my body drawn to him, it's as if I've got a hypersensitivity to him, noticing everything; the straightness of his jaw, the stubble making a disrespectful reappearance after his early morning shave, the curls that are starting to appear at the edge of his beret, tantalisingly taunting me to touch them, to feel the softness contradicting the competent air of authority, his face giving nothing away as he comes to stand in front of me. Even as I make an unwitting face, my eyebrows raising, acknowledging that my rifle ain't gonna' be good enough, his expression doesn't change from the impassive mask, his hand millimetres from mine as we do the handover, the well practised routine as he grabs the rifle with his right hand, lowering it diagonally to the left, twisting it, the motions that I've seen countless times over my career giving me a strange feeling, trying not to look at his long fingers and forearms as he lifts it to look through the barrell. "Did you not feel it important to look after your equipment Private Dawes"

"Yes I did Sir"

"This rifle could save your life" He's lifting it, muzzle to the right, looking down the sight.

"Yes Sir"

"But not if it fails to operate, due to a lack of respect, when cleaning it Private" He rotates it, 180 to the right, then moving the rifle horizontally to the left looking down the muzzle now.

"Yes Sir"

I watch his eyes, my peripheral vision taking in the firearm that's being returned to me before he's even finished the inspection, there is nothing there, no hint of anything, nada, not even annoyance, his voice flat, "I suggest you clean it properly then, don't you?"

"Yes Sir"

"Respect the equipment given to you by the British Army"

"Yes Sir"

He moves on, I stand at ease, though there's nothing easy about it, a mortification at my failure flooding through me. I'll tell you something this falling in love shit whilst on tour ain't easy, the difference in authority enough to break any relationship, never mind one which hasn't even started. I fleetingly take a sneaky look, seeing only what I want to, turning back again to face the front not wanting to get caught. I'm appeased, settled, the look on the Bossman's face towards Mansfield who's also failed, his sniper rifle not meeting the same exact standards, now lying semi-assembled on his bed; he's caught us all out, intentionally, knowing that we've taken our eyes of the ball, relaxed. This is his job, he's not gonna' show me any special treatment if at some point it's going to risk my life. I need to differentiate if I want this to work, him and I, I can't question him.

By the time he's finished with us, all of us failing him in some way I'm resigned to our relationship, accepting of the fact that if anything is gonna' happen, that I'm not gonna' piss him off I need to be as professional as him. Standing to attention once he's finished, his focus going round all of us "Disappointing 2 Section" are his final words, snapped, turning sharply on his heel and leaving the tent.

-og-

We're cleaning our weapons under the watchful eye of Kinders, an unusual silence in the tent, the concentration of wanting perfection. I don't think my wire brush and flannelette has ever seen so much friction, lucky bloody gun when I think about it. i blow, repeating the routine after visually inspecting the material to make sure it's clean, I'm gonna' make sure that there's not a grain of sand even if the Captain gets a fucking microscope for his next inspection.

Kinders comes over, taking the weapon off me, repeating the drill that the Boss had done earlier but this time he's carries it through, finishes it before handing it back. "Captain wants to see you, Med tent"

"Corp"

I'm up and out, my legs like a sat nav to the tent where he will be waiting. Blisters? A bollocking? The list could be endless but when I enter he's doing paperwork, sitting up on the bed as relaxed as someone who's been on a week's cruise down the Thames. MInd i'm not sure that would take a whole week. "How long is the Thames Sir"

His look is unsurprisingly surprised as he watches me crossing over to him "You tell me Dawes, it is after all your local river"

I open my hands out, just beyond waist length "That size Sir"

"Seeing as it is the second largest river then I think it will be a bit longer than that."

"Second?"

His hands are beside him, the paperwork abandoned as he watches me, his expression the one I dream about, nightly, daily, hourly, every second "Well the Thames isn't the longest"

"It isn't"

"No" I'm closer to him now, watching the warm affectionate look on his face, wondering if he'd notice if I pinched myself. Hard.

"No, think you'll find that's the Severn"

"Where the fuck is that?" I'm gutted on behalf of the Thames, it's a personal slight to me, like saying that West Ham didn't have the best supporters in the world "Bet you the bloody Seven doesn't go under the Tower Bridge, the most iconic bridge in the world. Sir"

He smiles, amusement shining through his melted chocolate gooey eyes; can you tell I've got this bad? "No Dawes I think you're right there"

"Well good" Always leave it on a high, that's what I believe. "What can I do for you Sir?"

The strong shoulders shrug, pulling himself forward till he's looking down at his boots "Wondered if you'd check my blisters?"

"Seeing as it's you Sir" It's been a while, we both do the laces of a respective boot, though he takes off both of his socks as I turn around to put my gloves on, not for the infection control that they're for but more as a barrier against touching his skin, I don't know if I'd stop at his feet, the usual tension building in the pit of my stomach as I kneel down, studying, clinically. Two perfect feet, well a bit smelly if I'm being critical and I suppose there's a bit of dry skin, skin that's repairing itself… perfectly. I look up at him, quizzically, he gives me an innocent stare, still waiting for me to say something, his fisted hands tucked into his pits "They look alright Sir"

"Really" I don't believe his surprise for a second, he's smirking at me, playing with me "Is prevention not better than cure Dawes"

"Yeah don't run us around the Fob for hours or take us out on a walking patrol when there's a perfectly decent troop carrier" I have a point whether he chooses to ignore it or not.

"Did you get your rifle cleaned?"

I take the gloves off, with habit, pulling one down, holding onto the edge so that when I take the other off they're contained, no risk of cross contamination even though there was nothing wrong with what I'd touched, wishing that I could have free access to his body. "Yeah, sorry 'bout that"

"So you bloody should be" His stare is a Commissioned officer, then it eases, as if he knows that I do take it seriously "At least you'll have this evening free, an early night. Get your kit sorted."

"Early night? I was well planning to go to the cinema or down for a drink at the pub Sir. You being as boring as always?" I almost wish that there was an injury I could deal with, give me something to do rather than standing in front of him or looking at my supplies, pretending that I'm interested when I know what I've got, could go on mastermind if they wanted someone who knew the exact combat medical kit for a 6 month tour.

"Calling me boring are we Dawes?"

Doing a visual stock check, counting the silver dressings that I have, I chuckle at his question, choosing not to answer, making him wait until I look up into expressive, seeking eyes "Probably not; bossy and always right that's what I'd call you"

His giggle is out of this world, a joyful sound that is out of place in the war torn arid land of the Fob but it still makes me giggle back, biting my lip as I make eye contact with him, turning towards him, his gaze questioning, hopeful "So is there nothing you can do for my feet?"

"No Sir" He looks disappointed, a sneaky glance towards the tent entrance and then back to me as if he's thinking of why I could be there, then his index finger goes up to the small graze beside his eye, the tip of his finger covering it as he swallows, nervously "Think I'm a bit sore here"

"What can I do for you?'

"Make it better?" His eyes drop to my lips, his pupils dilating until his eyes are almost black, I'm taking everything in, wondering what I wouldn't do for him, his shoulders raise and drop, eyes returning to mine "Kiss is better?"

On tiptoes I give myself another couple of inches, leaning forward, breaching the space between his legs, placing a kiss, briefly, not wanting to push my luck, reverting to my stance respectively in front of him and nervously looking to see if I've read him wrong, but I haven't, the same finger having transferred to his cheek "And here". The expression is beseeching, eyes still travelling between watching my mouth, reading me, as my lips move closer to their target his eyes flutter shut for a millisecond, his breathing raised, then exhaled as I make contact. His skin is soft, warm, a tangy suggestion of shaving foam alongside a taste of Afghan that I could never explain to someone who hadn't been here, this time I don't move as far back, my hands resting gently on his thighs, struggling not to go higher as I await my next instruction "And here" He's holding his fringe back, watching me with what I believe to be adoration, my lips press against his forehead, my hand cupping the back of his head, holding to me but respecting the authority he has, the contact calming to my soul "And here" His words are music, almost sung as his fingers find a new spot, a beautiful spot, one that I've dreamed about. As my lips touch his, nothing more than skin on skin, no movement from either of us, a pressing together of forbidden affection, we stay like that, for milliseconds to seconds, pulling apart before repeating, each time deeper but never beyond two human beings needing each other, you could even argue that it was platonic if you didn't take in his face, scrunched with the pain of abstaining. Mine; begging looking for reassurance, more.

"Will you let me take you out for Dinner when we get back. You know a date." The words are whispered against my lips. His eyes shut as he waits for my answer.

"Yes" All I'm interested in is him, pleasing him, I'd do anything for him, the forward planning of dates, being together, all of it floating through my head as if I've achieved everything I need to in life. Mcdonalds, Burger King, Wetherspoons, a mental tick list of where he would take me, my hand going to his shoulder, anchoring him so he stays close, within my body space as i pull back, tasting my lips, savouring the subtle taste of him "Depends now that I think about it, if you take me somewhere posh, what if I dunno' I can't use the cutlery or read the menu."

Strong large hands find my hips, thumbs gently instigating a rhythm against them, his lips find mine again as he pulls me back towards him, his hand coming up to hold my head as we resume our chaste kiss, breaking away and placing his forehead against mine, his hands transferring to cup my face, molding it into his grip "I'll look after you"

I believe him.

-og-

"STAND TOO"

I'm awake. Immediately. The fog of sleep replaced by the cold fear of dread. Placing my hand on the floor, anchoring myself after nearly falling out my tight, restrictive bedding, the shouted, screamed words instinctively telling me to move, with haste, causing me to forget that I'm in a cocoon of a regulation sleeping bag as my legs take flight, tangling with the cotton until with my heart beating furiously with the delay I'm released, free to get my protective gear on, falling into Mansfield, the two of us not even apologising as we search, collect:

There's only one reason for this. Something shitting scary is happening. I can feel the fear, the adrenalin, the training kicking in.

"STAND TOO" Kinders is screaming at us, an urgency that I've never heard. Grabbing for my combat trousers, cursing myself for wearing my shorts, it's without doubt that my West Ham top remains on as I pull on my flack jacket, my helmet next, grabbing my weapon at the bottom of the bed, pushing out through the tent entrance to the darkness, the stillness …. the Boss…. standing with his arms crossed, his legs apart, his face devoid of emotion.

He stalks up and down us, his weary soldiers, summoned from our pit at 3am according to the large watch on his arm that I get a gander at as he passes, his voice ice. "You must always be prepared. Everything must always be ready. The enemy isn't going to wait until we're organised." He stops at me, my shivering going unnoticed in the cold air of the night "You'd have been up shit creak without a rifle, wouldn't you Dawes"

"Yes Sir'

 **I have to say a huge big heartfelt mega thanks to Lesley for giving me ideas for real life scenarios that I could include in this, and taking the time to read to make sure I hadn't gone completely off the rails, all mistakes are of course my own. This is version 9 of this chapter, I don't think I've ever rewritten anything as much, a few had commented on the duet but I know (and tried) I can't do anything better than the wonderful script and action of TG and co, but if you want, it could give you an excuse to rewatch episode 2 duet….again… for the millionth time. Thanks for all the encouragement, you fabulous lot :)**


	16. Chapter 16

He's watching me as I sit with the lads, my eyes catching his as I play the role of section medic, laughing, thumping them playfully on the arm when they go too far. I'm sure he knows that I'd rather be with him, that I'm waiting on an opportunity to break away and join him. Whether that to be acting like two teenagers, a bashfulness to our romance that wouldn't have been out of place in the olden days, meaning that every stolen moment is precious, to be savoured, the memory and feel of it lasting until the next one.

The looming R&R that I'm due to go on is like a black hole; two weeks away from him, them, the knowledge of what they are up to every second of every day, a panic already starting that I won't have any control when I'm in Newham, unbelievably the trade of - cleanliness, family and alcohol no comparison for the relationships I've built up here.

It's him that gives up first, leaving his seat on the edge of the stage, coming over to join us at our usual table in the canteen and sitting down next to me, his knee bumping innocently against mine then returning, staying pressed against me. The conversation has turned to board games, the tradition that whenever one of us returns we bring a new game; something to break the monotony.

"What's it called the one with the funny faces?"

"I dunno' Funny Faces"

"No you bellend, the one where you have to guess the eye colours or the hair colours. You know" Baz's question renders everyone speechless for a few minutes, everyone looking at each other as they try to work it out.

"Guess Who"

"That's it Sir" They all look with pride at their CO, I don't think he can get any higher in their estimation, the fact that he knows a kids game the icing on the cake of idolisation "Get that Dawesy, it'll be well better than cluedo"

Fingers leans forward across the table, getting Smurf in a headlock "Cluedo is a bleedin' classic I'll have you know. Well it would be if the people who played it where adults and didn't make the game up as they went along"

Looking at him is difficult, even with the distraction of the lads pretending to fight, I can't be obvious either way. Avoiding him when I'm in company would raise alarm bells, looking too much would make people suspicious so I've learnt to time it, counting to 500 between glances. Today I'm concerned, a look of worry permanent on his face, the skin on his forehead puckered, the line between his eyebrows defined, his smiles and sarcastic retorts to the lads not reaching his eyes. It's only when they've given up, the argument to be continued later does he visibly deflate, his shoulders slumping, his hands constantly moving, fidgeting as if he can't get a calmness.

"You alright?" We've got 2 minutes, maybe 5 depending on what the lads do next, both of us watching to see if they'll go back to their tent or pick up a game of football, the later would be better, we could pretend that we're watching, we might even get 10 whole minutes.

He smiles as if he's placating me, the shadow of stress that I detected still there in the tension of his jaw, the dullness in his eyes an almost shyness to his demeanour "Yeah why wouldn't I be?"

"You seem a bit out of sorts"

Looking into the distance he sighs, as if he's attempting to bring himself out of whatever turmoils going on behind those closed off eyes, his answer drawled "Halfway through my fourth tour Dawes and that's the first time anyone's ever commented on my mood"

I giggle, his reaction to look at me out of the corner of his eye, his cheek bone rising as if he's going to laugh but he stills it in time for my retort "I'm sure they have noticed Sir but what with your ability to scare everyone with one look they've probably been shitting themselves to say anything."

Finally he laughs, a genuine hint to the sound, he twists so he's looking at me fully an intentness to his gaze "Anyway enough about me and my mercurial moods. how's your tour going? Everything you thought it would be?"

"It's alright I suppose" How do I tell him that I've only survived it because of him, that if he hadn't been there to support me, counsel me, educate me I might of given up mentally and physically "Bashara's kind of messed with my nut but when I joined the army I felt that I was doing the right thing for the first time ever and I've never doubted that part of it but if I could do things differently I would"

"Would you?" It's an innocent question, a flicker of surprise on his face making me think, putting myself back in the situations, a slideshow of the images so far; injured soldiers, young girls, the sound of flying bullets, him, the benefit of hindsight.

"Probably not actually, I'd still make the same mistakes wouldn't I?" Dismissively he shrugs, refusing to be drawn into my self-criticism. "Jumping in with 2 feet what am I like" I take a drink of water letting the silence sit between us like an uninvited guest, neither of us acknowledge my admittance that I've made mistakes, only a brief half smile his contribution. "I will always think of your advice and stuff, you know you'll always be like a bloody parrot on my shoulder, what would the boss say about this, would I get a bollocking for that." I've lost him again, his gaze somewhere beyond the football game of the lads. "What was your first tour like Sir?"

I get a sideways look, his eyes narrowing as he contemplates the question,returning to the lads "Alright, like you I didn't doubt what I was doing but yeah" He straightens up defensively, as if I'm bordering into disallowed territory "Wanted the responsibility, to be up there making the decisions, I was happy, content."

"What's been your worst tour?"

"The third" His answer almost left his mouth before I'd finished asking the question, eyebrows raised and dropped, another undecipherable glance in my direction.

"Cause of Smurf's brother" I ask it softly.

"That whole tour was defined with a feeling of failure. Do you want me to bore you with it?" I'm not sure if he's hopeful, if he wants to unburden or it's a stressed warning for me to keep out, his eyes raking over my face.

"If it makes you feel better?"

The thought process is there, but no words are forthcoming, the sadness in him is now palpable, empathetically I'm hurting for him, it's almost as if he's guilty, unsure about….. well I presume Smurf's brother, I haven't forgotten our previous conversation; him saying that you never got over it but today I sense that there's something else. I wish I could put my arm around him or say something funny, but I'm not sure if it would help, he's beyond my reach.

"You looking forward to your R&R?"

"A bit"

"It's the best part of tour Dawes, you must be looking forward to normality" His tone is jokey, an underlying arrogance.

I huff "What's so great about it?" Miffed that he wants me to go, that he's not begging me to stay.

"I don't know" He nods to the lads "For them it would be seeing family, kids." His tone is wistful, I've lost him again "Freedom, hot water, television I can think of hundreds." I wish that we weren't here, worried that someone was gonna' catch us, report us, that he could unburden and that I could kiss away this melancholy mood of his, god I'd even shag him if it made him feel better; I'm kind like that.

I only laugh, what else do I say, he stands up and I think our conversation is over but he moves round to the other side and sits back down; facing me, his intelligent eyes appraising me. "I have a suggestion"

"Does it involve you removing all your clothes?"

"No Dawes it doesn't" He smiles.

I smile back. "Sounds boring"

His laugh is carefree, thankfully, my job done with one easy observation "We've got one night before you go on R&R and piss off out of my life for 2 long boring weeks." A foot connects with mine under the table, a seductive pressure up my leg, my sigh a strange sounding whimper even to my ears, making him bite his lip, it ain't helping the longing in my stomach. I think my two weeks R&R might involve a lot of batteries "Whoever's the most ingenious at ways that we can spend time together gets to buy me a present" He could sell sand to the bleedin' arabs.

-og-

Afghan has done it to me again, taking every preconceived idea I had about the world, values, unwritten rules and blown them to smithereens. For a brief moment as I pack I'm glad that I'm going, that I'm gonna' put 7 hours of travelling between me and this fucked up place, then I look up and see him, standing there at the tent entrance and I'm back to square one. Nothing makes me want to leave this man.

"Sir"

He walks towards me, hands shoved in his pockets, his height a reassuring comfort that he's going to look after me as he stands in front of me. I'm not decent, just out the shower, not dressed appropriately to be in the presence of a commissioned officer but he doesn't seem to care, to be honest he doesn't seem to notice, his eyes focussed on me, worried for me. "You alright?" Two hours since we've been back, he had tried to talk to me on the long walk back but Smurf had interrupted, the Welshman's incessant chat about R&R meaning the Boss gave up, the exhalation of impatient breath not noticed by my over excited colleague. "You can't make sense of what happened today" He crosses his arms, looking at his boots as he considered his next words "If you over analyzed everything out here it would drive you mad." Placing himself against the cabinet, he leans back, settling himself, his forehead lined with worry "I'm concerned that you're going to spend 2 weeks replaying everything Dawes. If you do, you know feel as if it's too much, if you don't have anyone you can talk to write me a letter, write santa a letter just get it out don't bottle it up whatever you do."

"Do you ever want to leave Sir, do you ever think you can't do this anymore?"

Sitting down, resting his elbows on his knees he deliberates "It's a tough job but of course, I'd by lying if I didn't say that I never had doubts, didn't question anything. But don't you ever doubt yourself. Do the job your bloody good at and we'll be home for Christmas"

As always he makes me laugh, reciting the old army saying as his eyes light up mischievously "Now Dawes, pressing your arse into me as we counted the controlled drugs. Bloody ingenious."

He'd started it, his arm had gone around me, pulling me into him as he took over Kinder's role, what excuse he'd used to justify his need to countersign I don't know, the monotonous recounting of serial numbers on the small glass vials becoming one of the most innocent, erotic half hours of my life, the unresolved sexual tension even now causing me to clamp my legs shut to hold onto the memory, recalling the pressure building sensation, having wanted to press myself into him and then doing so, winning the challenge he'd set that only i could win. As if he knows my inner turmoil he stands, a delightful wariness to him as he walks towards me, taking a pen out of his pocket and kneeling down beside me "My present" He places his hand in mine, looking up at me, his featherlight touch on the palm of my hand, building the heaviness, his other hand trailing up the inside of my arm, a lightness, a caress and then a pressure "Rosabaya coffee capsules, go and buy me some." I watch, transfixed as he inscribes the words, like a tattoo that I'll never want to get rid of "and I will adore you for always"

The words are a surprise, "Always?" Hope starts to build, making it's way down my body meeting the lust somewhere in the middle and building into something momentous in my heart.

His eyes give me the answer, his words clarify "Come back to me"

"I will"

Hands grab onto my face, urgently, his lips smash into mine, pushing me back and for two brief moments he's above me, his body pressing into mine, his hands finding mine and holding them as his tongue sweeps into my mouth, connecting, his groans melting into my mouth at the contact, I find a solidness to grind against, building my own rhythm, succumbing for a moment to all that is forbidden about this relationship, the pleasure, 3 months of longing; of dreaming. Climaxing.

Hearing is the first sense to return, my body relaxed taking in the sounds of life in the fob, peacefulness settling over me, languidly I open my eyes, being met with the wide eyed stare of a bewildered, amused man, his hand stroking my hair away from my face, the roughness of his watch against my skin with each motion, caressing me, chivalrously he holds me, comforting me as my internal organs return to normality.

"Jesus Christ Molly, you never…?" He can't finish, suppressing laughter leaving him speechless.

I yawn, for a moment content, satisfied, my hand goes round to his arse, pressing so that we're connected again; there. "it's the power of the combats Sir"

 **I've had my usual argghhs about this chapter and have ended it a bit smuttier than what I ever intended but it is shortly Christmas and well, that's all the excuse I need.**

 **I also wondered if he ever did try to talk about his homelife and I'm sure he would have been conflicted, what with him being the only male in the history of the world to be as close to perfect as you can get - hope this comes across alright.**

 **Happy Christmas everyone (not sure if I'll fit in an update before Christmas, I'm way behind with everything) , can't believe that this time last year I had never written a story since I'd been at school and didn't have so many OG friends. Big kisses!**


	17. Coming Back

**MERRY CHRISTMAS EVERYONE! Hope everyone has a fantastic day. You've all made my year by reading. Thank you.**

I feel alone with my pounding heart, it's saying something that I can hear it above the blades of the chopper as I watch; waiting on the signal, primed to get this journey over as quickly as possible.

My two weeks, gone, unbelievably. This time two weeks ago they'd stretched out in front of me, a fear that they'd never be over. The first week had been pretending; that I was glad to be home, that I was pleased that a party had been thrown for me, that there wasn't another world out there that I now knew about, one, without bragging, that couldn't do without me.

The second week had been easier, filled with daily countdowns. A bit like when you were a kid, holidays or Christmas, a week today we'll be opening presents or my mum'll be saying 'this is nice' as she looks round a Butlins chalet. This is a bit different, 'I'll be on my way to Brize this time next week' smiling I'd got out of my bed, double checked that my passport was still there. The next day, an argument about politics whilst Dave watched Question Time, can of beer in his hand, everything the politicians fault, my mind wandering '6 nights tonight I should be over Afghan', the following night I couldn't sleep, awake, worrying about everything and nothing 'they'll be switching to night lights' the thought of the organisation of the army, reassuring, settling me enough that I fell asleep.

My next night was different, a phone call; one 2 minute unexpected call when the Dawes clan had been at their loudest, the arguing of my parents allowing anarchy to break out. They nearly never told me there was a call, their game interrupted to answer the phone, putting it down 'n' only by chance the squad of my siblings passing me on the stairs "Molls phone for you"

"Dawes"

At first my knees went weak, leaning against the damp, drying clothes on the banister for support "Sir?" Something trying to get through the panic that he was okay, talking, then my worst fear, that he was saying they didn't need me back, then a toe curling fear that something had happened to one of the lads, guilt that my first thought hadn't been for them.

"Good R&R" His tone was light, I could imagine him, sitting in the tent with the archaic phone to his ear, smiling, his free hand fidgeting with something on the desk; possibly a foot rested over his knee, I could almost smell Afghan, taste the scent that surrounded him.

"Alright I suppose. Bit shit what with no-one waking me up at the crack of dawn" He'd laughed, that way that he had, a short brief snort through his nose, there would be a genuine smile on his face, he might even stretch at this point, release whatever tension he had, but in my thoughts he'd keep smiling. "Everything alright with you?"

"Alright I suppose. Bit shit not having anyone to wake up at the crack of dawn" I'd laughed and I'm sure we'd grinned together, my original point had been his early morning 3am drill, his point I'm sure was our 6am routine to try and get to the canteen first to have a few brief interrupted words before the life in the fob started.

"Anyway serious business Dawes, the lads have a request" There had almost been a pause, a chance to tell him if I'd carried out his request, a moment's insecurity for him, a moment's security for me that it mattered whether I did or not "They've changed their mind on the game apparently it's twister now"

"Seriously"

"'Fraid So"

"Can't think of anything worse than playing that"

"Don't disappoint them Dawes, they've spent hours creating a tournament, had to get a bit arsey with them when they tried to take over the ops room, Beck wasn't too happy when he went in to check an operational detail and instead found himself faced with Twister '14 The Face Off instead."

"Shit"

"Without a doubt?"

"Latrine clean?" I'd groaned, out there it was the bog standard (excuse the pun) charge, unless you did something more serious like what I did, it was almost worth doing something a bit worse to get out of it. "I don't miss that." There had been another silence, me contemplating what I was missing - him, and him possibly content that I was missing something about being there. He ended the silence with a sigh, then he spoke, his words succinct, hiding his emotions:

"Right Dawes, I'd better get going, enjoy your last few days and hurry the fuck up and get back here, my sanity is getting pushed to the limit"

I'd wrapped the cord of the phone round my finger, flirting, not that there was anyone to see but it appeased me, imagining him, in my mind he'd be leaning forward, his fingers raking through the curls on his head, longer than what they'd been when I'd left, as he contemplated that he was missing me. "Will do Sir, can't wait to get back"

"Good"

It had sounded a touch arrogant, one sided and I was about to hang up thinking he'd gone when he spoke again; softer, touching my heart "Bye Dawes"

"Sir"

And then he'd gone, the click signalling the disconnecting of the call and I realised he'd used up some of his allowance to get in touch, that even as a Captain was minimal, to speak to me. Mind you, who else he'd speak to I don't know, a brief few seconds spent wondering about his life. That night, or when the bright red glowing digits of the cheap alarm clock said 00.30am, when the sky was at it's darkest in West London but knowing it would be over 4 hours ahead there, the favourite time for the Coalition to transfer in their troops '5 nights tonight and my tummy'll be doing that mad drop thing as the plane does a sudden descent', a shittin' frightening fall from the sky if no-one had the decency to tell you it would do that, my eyes if I remember rightly had seeked out Charles, my thinking that something had gone wrong, he'd looked at me, I still couldn't tell you what was behind his eyes but he'd picked up his book, reading, I suppose with hindsight a sign that if we were in a mayday situation he wouldn't be reading about sodding Kabul.

4 days to go, watching the morning news as I ate my Coco-pops in my dressing gown, out of sorts, not sure what to do with my day. Imagining, placating myself that in approximately 96 hours I'd be going through security, back to the heat, the sweat running down my back.

3 sleeps to go, having to define days to nights, an immature way to count, mimicking my childish need to be back, an excitement at the thought of waiting on the chinook, a short stay in Bastion as interesting as a service station stop on your way back from Brize. The replicated feeling letting me pound the streets as I try to keep fit, wanting to be back and impressing him.

2 sleeps to go; a manic urge to pack, in the event or hope that they want me back sooner, cocooning a gift wrapped box of coffee capsules in t-shirts, still unsure whether to leave the ribbon - too out of place in the plush shop to correct her assumption, the genuine smile of the sales assistant as she handed me over the gift.

1 sleep to go; on the train to Brize, every single memory about the FOB coursing through my nut, an impatience with the train, the taxi before that;

And then that moment was happening, here, life had moved on, time had done what it should - each second had ticked, each minute had passed and slowly, painfully each hour had trickled into the next creating days, a week and now 2 weeks. I was back; the ramp at the back of the Chinook was opening, the dust was swirling, and though i couldn't make out faces he was there somewhere, waiting for me. As I make my way across the short distance, crouched, moving fast under cover from the lads for incoming fire but aware that if the Taliban want to get me this would be the time, my focus only on finding him.

I'm gonna' see him, Kinders has said, used his name, my tongue sticking to the roof of my mouth with nerves as I take off my helmet, desperate to look around me, worried about if I'll give the game away, trying to tone down my grin, biting my lip prepared for when he chooses the best time, then I see him.

His arms, relaxed at his side as he walks with purpose, in a way it's like we were back in the nightclub, the heat's the shitting same for a start, 'n' I'm waiting for him, not believing that someone like him…. I swallow, a moment of crap disbelief that this is real, that I'm letting myself fall for someone so out of my league, insecurity as I look down at the lads; like a pack of wolves on my Bergen, pulling stuff out.

"Alright Dawes"

I stand, I grin, my face feels as if it might crack with the happiness that's surging out of me, who'd be stupid to be anything but when in his company "Boss" I forget to bite my lip, to rein it in.

He smiles too, maybe a bit more controlled than mine, but there's still happiness shining out of his eyes, he looks around him, his gaze watching as Mansfield questions me, the ginger one's words forgotten as soon as they're out of his mouth, he gives up delving into my bergen himself. I look back to the Captain as soon as I can, reassured he's still looking at me. "You should do a handover with the temp medic"

"Sir" but I don't go immediately I can't, my legs have frozen to the ground, I need something anything, one eyebrow is raised, a glint of cheeky humour, bringing his left shoulder back so his body language is pointing in the direction of the med tent, his hand going to the straps of his Bergen, his fingers tapping, a sign of agitation;

"Double Away Dawes"

"Sir"

-og-

Furtive looks are passed between Jackie and I, our time has the background noise of a helicopter, no time for a relaxed chat, not that I'm relaxed, my muscles tight with tension as she gives me the lowdown as we communicate, the morphine count the same as when I left, simple signatures being signed. The relief of the realisation that it's been calm since I've been away, no incidents, only basic medical kit having been used, then he's there. Standing, thanking then watching as Jackie leaves the tent, his focus turning to me, and I'm nervous. He smiles, his eyes softening as I come to stand in front of him, he tilts his head down.

"Hello Dawes" A grin spreads across his face, his hand going out to take the clipboard from my grasp, putting it down on the table dismissively "Nothing interesting in there"

"Mansfield?"

He scrunches his face up, trying not to laugh "Will never learn." His hands tuck into his armpits, he's still relaxed, kicking at his own foot then looking at me as if he's gonna' gauge my reaction "Made a pact with myself when you were away."

"To be nicer to everyone under your chain of command Boss?"

"It's not Christmas Dawes" I laugh, as much at his pretence that he was being serious and also at the memory of Christmas, the constant grumping from him, he would never have made it in the Army if he had started at the bottom, there was no doubting that he was born to be a leader. "I made a pact" he repeats himself, pausing, unsure "that I would be more professional" His voice drops, aware he could be overheard "That I'd crossed enough boundaries to last me a tour, a career even"

"Sir"

"And then you're here" His voice is now a whisper, a rawness to it that I've not heard before "We're going back to Bastion Dawes, we can't" a tick starts up in his jaw. "I'll not have your career ruined because of me"

"Is it because of what happened before I left?"

"What happened before you left?" He shakes his head, confusion on his face.

"You know." I nod towards the bed, my face flaming with the memory, gradually working up to looking at him, one blink at a time, then I slap him on the arm, trying to block out the image that greeted me of his shoulders, shaking, his tongue firmly placed between his teeth. I huff, loudly, still holding on to my embarrassment. "Thought you posh dicks were meant to have more bloody class than pissin' yourself laughing at people"

"Sorry, yes, very rude of me. No, it wasn't because of that Dawes. That was the highlight of my tour believe me." The arrogant smirk returns replacing his apologetic look of before "You also need to believe me that it has got me through many a lonely night." His hand cups my cheek "Many a lonely night" and then I watch as his head is lowered towards me, his lips moving in the direction of mine, his eyes closing.

"Thought we weren't meant to be doing this Sir" His eyes open, thinking as he's watching me, his pupils dilated, his eyes dark, I can feel his breath on me, it's warming, calming.

"Not doing anything Private" He doesn't move, not closing or increasing the distance, his hand brushes against mine "You came back?"

"I'm glad to be back"

"There must be something wrong with us, wanting to be back to abnormal"

"Think we're fine Sir"

Something caresses my lips, I don't know if it was a forbidden kiss or his breath as he pulled back, a tension as he looks towards the exit, he'd obviously heard something I hadn't. He scratches the back of his head, still listening, then he looks wide eyed.

"Think we've got incoming Dawes" He stands back, hands in pocket, listening to the voices, my name the topic, "I'll leave you to it"

"Feed me to the wolves why don't you Sir"

"Call it payback for leaving me." He returns my grin with a smirk, his body turning to leave.

"Sir? If we're gonna' go back to Bastion tomorrow why the hell did I have to come back." He shrugs, dismissively "'Cause I'm well looking forward to a shitting long, arse killing journey, listening to that bunch of twats let me tell you."

There's no smile, he's back to being professional "You're our medic, you needed to pack…. and I missed you."


	18. Coffee v's Tea

**Happy New Year - hope there aren't too many sore heads out there and if there is then hopefully a day on the couch watching OG awaits. I did try to do a lighter chapter but I just couldn't make it into enough content to post - sorry! Anyway, 2016 the year of Series 2 Yippee! As always thanks for reading x  
**

I'm looking at the manilla folder, reading the upside down words on the front, not that they tell me anything other than it's not for the likes of me to read. Part of me wants to open it though, to see what it says; about me, about him but I can't, I'm not strong enough, don't have enough guts to see if it tells me something about him that I don't know, like - maybe he likes helping old ladies across the street, or he only joined the ANA to provide for his orphaned children who would be destitute without him. My head sinks into my hands at that thought, christ, how many kid's lives is it possible to ruin singlehanded lay in one tour of Afghan?

"At Ease Dawes" My head whips up, observing him as he walks towards me, listening to his footsteps, watching him as he stands, slightly bent forward, his focus on two cups in his hands, I can't read his expression, the lights not good enough, the contrast from outside where the sun's shining to this dark oppressive tent, a small desk lamp casting just enough light to see; sums up how I feel inside, everything that I've believed in up shit creak having just found out that someone died for me, stoned till his internal organs gave up, bled, I've seen too much blood, even for being in a bloody war I'm sure that I'm at my quota. Placing the cups down his foot loops round the leg of the chair to pull it out, sitting down with a confidence that I ain't ever going to have in life; then he looks at me; concern, then a smile as if he's trying to pretend that everything's fine, that there's nothing that we can't deal with together, nodding to the cups "Drink"

The smell is strong, bitter, I can feel water flooding into my mouth, my system still recoiling from the horrors of the day. "I don't like coffee."

"It's not coffee." He raises his eyes as if it's obvious, that he wouldn't make that mistake, taking a sip of his own, the corners of his mouth curved into a show of humour, his eyes though tell the story of the day, heavy, dark "Well, mine is, though I'd describe it as individually roasted colombian arabicas that were brought over from London, at no expense to the taxpayer" Pushing the other cup closer towards me with two fingers, making sure I'm looking at him "Anyway, that is tea, mass produced leaves, boiled water, too much sugar even for you and light on the milk."

"Thank you Sir" I sip, slowly at first, not to see if I like it or if it's too hot but too check that I'm not gonna' get that same reaction to the water I drank before I was summonsed here, the projectile reaction by my throat, I had thankfully been alone at that point but I'm not taking any chances pushing the polystyrene cup away from me, he's right it was too sweet but already I'm missing it; wishing I could just enjoy it.

He nods, as if answering a question he'd asked himself, then he leans forward, our knees bump under the table and for once I move mine back, the adrenalin in my body not wanting physical contact, I can see the furrow between his eyes deepen, he looks away, clears his throat, then his eyes meet mine again, more understanding if that's possible, his voice soft;"Major Beck said that they have enough information at the moment. He has no further questions at this time."

I should bleedin' think so, looking down I watch as my fingers find a nail, it's a bit ragged, but it's good to give it some attention, take my mind of the thumping of my heart. Beck didn't take any prisoners, his questions didn't care that I have the weight of the world on my shoulders; that there were things about today that I don't want to remember ever again in my lifetime. A dull shot of pain, brings me back, I've overdone it, that way that you take too much nail off, sore, the nail bed exposed, you wonder why you did it, why you didn't stop; I'll need to get a plaster, that should help it.

My hands are shaking as they return to cocoon the mug, I'm getting comfort from it; the heat. "It would be nice, if you didn't have to always do the counsellor shit for me" The tea goes down the wrong way as I get a memory of sitting on top of a shitter watching the stars, making me cough "Shit, I'm sure I've said that same crap to you before ain't I?" Looking around me as I wait for the tears, that are a combination of my reflux system kicking in and the memory of the day, he's suddenly awkward, his hands clasped together as if he's stopping himself from doing something; hitting me on my back to help my choke or to give me some physical reassurance, but he doesn't his hands still, his body tense, there's nothing personal, I need something personal to ground me, recalling his quarters in the FOB, when I'd stood with a box of coffee capsules, choosing where to place them, it had been a game getting them into his quarters; fun. The right kind of adrenalin as I did it without him knowing, even more so as he'd been in a bit of huff thinking I'd forgot about him; as if. Standing in his own personal space, running my hand over a photo frame, a picture, a kid, I smile, the memory of the innocence of childhood, it soothes me again, for a moment being back in that place last night when everything hadn't gone to shit, when I'd felt secure. Rather than here, I let out a shaky breath, then I look at him again.

"Come here" Standing, abruptly he moves to the side, a brief glance to the door, then he takes a white box from his pocket, holding it as he untangles something; headphones I realise "We won't have long. Beck's briefing his superiors and the Americans just now." They're the kind you get with your phone, simple, his head nods to the space in front of him, my legs going there without even asking my brain. He has a problem with a knot, his fingers working to release it as he keeps up his dialogue as if he knows that it's all that's keeping me together "I can't say anything to help you. But" Leaning over towards me he puts the bud of the headphone into my ear, leaving me to adjust it whilst he puts the other end in his ear, then looking down to the ipod in his hand. "You can talk to me, whilst we listen"

"Though we'd agreed you had shit taste in music Sir?" He exhales a snort, an automatic response to my cheek. I'd forgotten how tall he was, or maybe I feel small, the world too big, his arm touches my shoulder, grasps it but I can't see his face even with my chin tipped up. "Hungry Eyes?"

Eyes meet mine, a glimmer of humour in them, then he grins; shyly, before pulling a sarcastic face. "Thought Dawes, what with you going on and on about that bloody movie... this was the only song that I liked from it."

I smile, for the first time, keeping my head down, so he can't see the small smile of victory, the comforting thought that at some point he's listened to an entire soundtrack to find a song. for me, then I remember why I'm here. "I'm not worth dying for Sir."

"Are you not?"

"No, I'm just me, stupid."

"Ohh I'd have to disagree Dawes" Hands brush against my elbows as if he want to get my attention but I don't look up, worried that I'll be able to tell that he's lying, he brings his head down towards my ear, his breath fluttering which each word. "Being academically intelligent does not define your worth in life and I defy anyone to think of you as stupid?"

"My teachers at school would have to disagree"

"Well they called that one wrong."

I now feel pressure on my hips, pulling me into him, he's started up a rhythm, slow, one foot to another, his hands back to his sides "I wasn't even nice to him" There's no answer, our movement allowing the thoughts to come into my head. "I don't know anything about him apart from what he's called, well his first name 'n' that he has bad skin and could do with a shitting load of deodorant. Well he did, he doesn't now" His hands return, fingertips pressing into my waist, holding me against him "And he didn't really like women but he died for one, for me."

"He didn't die for you Molly" The track ends, we both go silent as we wait for the next song to start. This one's faster, his hands leave me, I almost feel a draught as he places them on his hips, getting his point across, a hint of annoyance in his tone. "He died because he joined up, he believed in what he was fighting for. That wouldn't have included killing someone because the Taliban wanted it."

I let the words sink in as the lyrics of the songs start to make there way into my nut, "Never tear us apart Sir?"

His mouth turns up at the corners, a faint colour discernable in his cheeks even in the muted light. "Misspent teenage years Dawes, used to wonder if I'd ever feel that way about someone." He pulls me back into him. "Talk again"

"I don't know" I hold onto his belt, just my fingers holding onto some gravity, lightly, still aware that someone could come in at any moment, that there's no way we could explain this, that it would ruin our careers. "I spose' we're all at risk ain't we, like I could die and it wouldn't be.."

"Over my dead body."

I'm giggling, I'm bloody giggling and I can feel the tears start to spring into my eyes, I think I'm a bit hysterical, he's looking all affronted, as if he can't see what he's said is funny. "That was funny."

"How the fuck was that funny?" His arms are crossed, INXS still wittering on in our ears, as he looks at me with a mixture of disgust and confusion.

"Well" I wipe the tears away from my eyes, trying to get my laughter under control, every time I stop, I make a funny kind of whimper and start again, I'm sure he's starting to break, occasionally there's a flicker of movement at the side of his mouth and his eyes have lost the dull sheen. "If you're bleedin' dead then there ain't anything you can do about me is there?"

He lowers his head to mine, eyes level "Even dead I'd want to protect you."

There's silence in the room, even with the music playing in our ears. "That's the nicest thing anybody's ever said to me." I whisper the words, not caring that I've lost his attention as he looks towards the entrance to the tent again, he clears his throat, straightening back up, eyes flickering warily down towards me.

"You're not going to take the piss out of me?"

There a small bubble of something starting inside me, possibly acceptance or maybe just that I've not eaten "I might get a tattoo of those words."

"Don't you dare." I think the small bubbles contagious, 'cause he's smiling now, biting his bottom lip, maybe he's hungry too. "Are you feeling better?"

"Yeah, I just wish I could have…" I'm back to the feeling of confusion but have to admit, there's something lighter, as if I'm accepting that maybe this wasn't all my fault.

"What, not followed your instincts, not.."

Boldly I put my fingers up to his lips "Thought it was me what was meant to be doing the talking."

"Well bloody talk then"

"I would if I could get a word in."

HIs hands are held up, a smirk that makes that small bubble come back again, stays for longer and then the song changes, a slow one, making me listen to the words, he strokes my upper arms, sensing something "You chose this song for me?" I pull back a bit "Wherever you will go...Sir…."

A forehead touches mine, applies needed comforting pressure "Obviously it was the rock band version, I thought you might like this one. Anyway don't call me Sir, for the next 5 minutes, don't call me that, alright?"

"What do you want me to call you Charles?"

He looks directly at me, assessing. "You're smirking again, that's good." This time his arm goes round my waist, his right hand takes mine and pulls it up as if we were dancing, ready to do a bleedin' waltz or something "I don't care what you call me just don't call me Sir." We don't speak. I'm having a moment, in a tent in Bastion no less, I think I'd maybe get that Jennifer Lawrence to play me in a film it's such a huge gigantic moment.

Again the music changes, the jauntier tune, easier "Boss" I ignore his amused sigh of frustration, my thought process has picked up "How did the Taliban get him, was he just taking a walk, ran out for some milk or I dunno' sugar?"

"He went missing on patrol, he was there one minute, not the next from the reports" He stills, his body stopping from keeping time to the beat "There was nothing for the ANA to be suspicious about, his record was exemplary until he didn't return, that he'd gone AWOL. Early indications suggest that he was unlucky, that they weren't targeting anyone in particular. Wrong place, wrong time." The rhythm starts again, lulling me, moulding me to him again, I feel him inhale deeply, then letting his breath out slowly, his voice soft, reassuring "He must have believed that what he was doing was right Dawes, that you had been right, you were innocent" My hair flutters on the top of my head with his breath. "There must have been strength in there."

"If the situation had been reversed….."

Arms pull me closer. "I don't have a doubt what you would do if the situation was ever reversed"

"Do you not?"

"No and it scares the hell out of me." I'm cocooned, my head where it should be, next to his heart, hands grip onto my shoulders "You would have done exactly what he did Dawes, you wouldn't have let someone else die for an easy option."

"You've got faith in me"

"You should have faith in yourself"

"Why?"

"You tell me, go on we've got approximately another 5 minutes" I go to move back but he stops me, applying pressure. "This song is a classic."

"I suppose someone has to think that." Elton John's 'I'm Still Standing' continues, I feel him relaxing against me, a vibration through his chest at my comment. "And by the way Sir, 5 minutes ain't enough for me to list all my good points"

"Well good. Glad to hear it. Though personally I'd say 3 minutes should be enough….. Christ Dawes, you've got a mean right hook." He puts distance between us, rubbing his shoulder but smiling, a warm genuine smile, like he's happy that I'm here in front of him.

"What's gonna' happen now?"

The distance between us closes, his hand comes up to my cheek. "It goes above our heads."

"He won't die in vain, will he, they'll try to find out who killed him won't they?"

"Can you believe me and trust in those above?"

"If you say so Boss."

"Good" One hand goes into his pocket, his other scratching his chin as he thinks "You're going to have to go now Dawes." Warm eyes watch me, assess me "Have fun with the lads, go to the cinema, laugh, get a non-alcoholic beer, just try and relax."

I nod, in theory that sounds great "What you gonna' do, Charles?"

For the first time a grin lightens up his face, amusement towards me, I liked the way my tongue wrapped round the vowels of his name, my smile mirroring his. He thinks about my question before looking bashful "What I'm gonna' do, is try and make sure Sohail didn't die in vain. Now piss off Dawesy."


	19. Chapter 19

**Thanks for reading and thanks for the support, this publishing lark never gets any easier :( x**

There's two things what's ruining the dozy relaxed feeling I have; the sound of scraping metal is one, and if I could manage to ignore that then I'd struggle to drown out the second; the amused voices of the lads arguing. With the frustration of a 2 year old (I speak from experience) who ain't getting there own way I peek, taking a second for the my eyes to adjust to the bright light; it's the sight of Nude-Nut being unwilling dragged over to take his turn in the shade of our tent that I'm met with, it would be funny if I wasn't hell bent on working on my tan in a calm and peaceful environment 'n' also if 10 minutes ago my R&R hadn't been rudely disturbed by some wanker - namely Nude-Nut- having turned my bleeding volume up on my ipod - okay the boss's - full whack causing me to jump up in shock, I only just managed to get my arse back onto my bed slash sun lounger before I was the unlucky one to be yanked into the shade. You'd think they'd make sure there was enough room outside our quarters for all of us to get some Vitamin D along with the bleedin' Bastion dust that's constantly whipped up into our faces, maybe when I get my mission debriefing I'll suggest that.

"Everyone cleaned their rifles?" Kinders yawns, showing how interested he really is. There's a few grunts in reply by the others, but most of us have gone back to trying to get some shut eye, it's amazing how quickly the noises of our base becomes normal, even to the point it's reassuring, like when I'm lying in my bed at home with a hangover 'n' you can hear the noise of the crowds on matchday. "Well don't look to me if the Bossman decided to do an inspection and you all failed again."

I wipe away some drool on the corner of my mouth, rolling over to lie on my stomach, pushing my shorts down a little bit further, I could have weeks of staying away from the fake tan bottle if I play this right for the rest of the tour.

"Do you want me to put some sun tan lotion on your back Dawesy?" When I open an eye again reluctantly, Smurf's sitting on his bed, a grin on his face, watching me as he rubs lotion into his shoulders. I don't know how he does it, but there's something suggestive about the way he's doing it, I almost bring up a bit of sick up into my gob.

"I'd rather burn Smurf"

"Charming"

I can feel myself starting to drop off again, surprise surprise it's the Boss that I'm thinking about, I ain't seen him for a couple of days, what with us not having the same opportunity here, Kinder's being the one to give us our orders and decide what drills we're doing, 'n' it's not as if he's got the same area to eat or drink with us, though I would love to see the other Rupert's faces if I turned up in their mess and suggested the Boss made me a cup of tea.

"Shit Dawesy, your back is mega red, and I mean mega"

"What"

"Your back Molls, you're burning"

If that had come from anyone else but Brains, I'd have told them to take a running jump, he's the only one I trust even though I do try to have a peak, but that's not gonna' work is it, not like I've developed the neck rotation of an owl or anything since I've been here, reluctantly I look around me, unfortunately it's still Smurf that has the section factor 15, a hopeful expression on his face as I hold my hand out and he clutches the bottle tighter to his chest, we're at a stand-off for at least 30 seconds before I give up, the last thing I want is to put my t-shirt back on and lose this chance to get brown. "Touch my arse or anywhere apart from that square" I try to show Smurf the boundaries with my hand but it's difficult "And I'll break your legs, alright?"

"Loud and clear." He sits, kneeling on the ground beside my camp bed, waiting on me to lie down again, the lotion's cold as it hits my skin, making me giggle, resting my head in my arms I watch Smurf, his face rigid with concentration as he tries to follow my rules. "Could always do your front too Molls, best be careful eh, you don't want any sensitive skin getting burnt do you?"

I yawn, he's actually pretty good at this, something relaxing about the circling motion on my back but I'd never tell him that. "Spose it's the same for you, 'cause there ain't be anything worse than getting your balls burnt as I've stapled them to the top of that flag pole over there, would there?"

"Point taken"

"Good"

"That's you"

I do give him a smile 'cause it would be rude not to "Thanks mate", watching him as he puts the lid back on "When we get to Cyprus Smurf, what happens?"

"What d'you mean?"

"Like where does the Captain go, will we see much of him there?"

"God no, we're there to relax." He lies down, his arms behind his head "As long as we don't get into trouble then he'll keep out of our way."

"It'll be strange won't it? You know, not all being together, like it's strange being back here 'n' he's not shouting at us or checking that we're alright all the time."

"Missing the bossman are we?"

I blow a strand of hair out my face, only for it to fall back in the same place "Not particularly, it's just become the norm ain't it, after 4 months?.. What the bloody hell you doing Smurf" His hand doesn't stop, the strand of hair being placed behind my ear the same time as I pull my head back with annoyance. "Don't ever touch me or I'll…."

"Break my legs, or my arms or get me by the balls, I know Molls, you tell me often enough." He's not put out, no hint of apology, as he swings his legs round so he's sitting up, stretching, watching something as he takes a sip of his water, then uses his bottle to point something behind me. "Anyway if you're missing the boss he's over there, heading away"

5,4,3,2,1, I count, then I look, just incase it's a test or something, my eyes scanning for him, my heart starts thumping when I realise Smurf's right, he's walking away, his back rigid and his stride purposeful, "Christ I've remembered, I was meant to bloody ask him 'bout something medical." Somebody once told me that the skill in lying was to not elaborate, brilliant advice, always knew it would come in useful.

"What someone in the section?"

"Nah, one of the lads that I treated in the medical centre last night, he said he knew the Boss they were at Sandringham together, think they'd even maybe been at Uni together, 'n' I was meant to pass it onto the boss, but you know I couldn't be bothered seeing him last night, enjoying the break away from him, 'n' I obviously bleedin' forgot this morning, as I'd better things on my mind so I'd better…"

-og—

"Give us a lift Boss?"

His cheeks have that tinge of red as he straightens up at the sound of my voice, looking round about him as if I've maybe gone too far. He doesn't need to as obviously I checked first, okay I'll correct that – I checked his arse out first but it was there, right in front of me as he bent down to tie his boots shoelace so you can't blame me, then I looked to see if there was anybody in hearing range; nobody, thankfully, we're even out of sight of the lads by the time I caught up with him.

"Trust you Dawes" He laughs as he says it, then tries to look all official, don't know why he bothers but then as he takes in that there's no-one paying any attention his shoulders ease, his expression becoming warm, concerned. "Everything alright, you feeling better?"

"God yeah" Shit, I shouldn't have said that, he might remember our 'chat' from the other day. The one where he suggested that maybe I went to a church service, you know, trust in 'him' higher higher above us, we'd even had an educated discussion about religion. When I say a 'discussion' it was fairly one sided, he talked I listened, though he might have lost my attention somewhat when he talked about some people 'embracing' religion, my mind got a bit visual at that point 'n' I maybe was a bit hot under the collar what with all these lovely images what were coming into my nut. I'm sure we left it with me grinning like a sodding twat saying 'what a brilliant idea Sir'. Even this morning I woke and contemplated it, then the lads suggested 'Operation Bronze' and that was far more up my street but he doesn't need to know that, I won't share that with him, I'll let him think that we've all been industrious or something all morning. "It's amazing what not having to think you're gonna' be under attack constantly and some decent food 'n' a hot shower can do."

"Glad to hear it, though must be honest, the showers here are still crap" Charles starts walking, applying pressure gently on my elbow to encourage me to walk with him, his words are flat as if he's still worried we'll be overheard "Still be the first thing I do when I get home. Well to be specific, I'll have a shower, then a bath, then a shower, get this bloody grime off me."

"Okay" I say in my most relaxed, I'm not about to start panting voice, my face flushed "And then what'll you do?" I'm think maybe he'll need to dry himself a couple of times, maybe even he can describe how he's gonna' wrap his towel round his hips and I dunno' maybe talk about when he leans over the sink and puts on some aftershave; that would be the gentlemanly thing to do.

"Make a phone call, see if there's the possibility of taking someone out for dinner."

He's not a gentleman. "And how would you be dressed when you made this phone call Sir?"

He looks down at his feet as if he's confused, then his face creases into a smile, looking ahead as we continue our walk, I think we're on the same page, his eyes are doing that thing where he narrows them every few seconds as he thinks; probably mentally going through his towel collection, then he goes all bleedin' serious again. "You're not helping Dawes" The corners of his lips twitch "Anyway, the question on my mind is what will you be wearing when I phone you?"

Suddenly the fact that he's talking about phoning me, to take me out on a date is the funniest thing in the world, and before I know it I'm standing still, my hand hiding my gob, I've started laughing, and he's laughing too, I've never seen him laughing like this before, it's as if he's a toddler, his nose scrunching up and somehow that makes it even funnier, I'm trying to keep my laugh in but it's hard, my stomach hurts and my nose has started to run and I ain't got anything to wipe it on. Maybe I could use….

"Why was Smurf rubbing suntan lotion into your back?"

"Eh?" I look up, still snorting but Charles isn't, he's looking at me as if he's confused and a bit hurt actually.

"Smurf, he was" His hand goes up towards my face, but this time I don't recoil in horror though his stops mid-way, dropping with a thud against his side, I know what he saw, but he's not finished "and rubbing suntan lotion into your back when you were all sunbathing" He repeats, his voice flat.

There's a silence, and I can feel my breathing has accelerated, I look into his dark eyes, and quickly look away again, and then look back again as I feel a sudden surge of exhilaration.

"You were jealous?"

He nods, once, warily watching me for my reaction.

"Sir, you ain't got anything to be jealous about, he's just Smurf."

"And I'm?" He asks, a glint of something, possibly uncertainty in his eyes.

"If I were to put it into words….well…. You're like a bleedin' snow globe." I huff, blanking out his wide surprised eyes. "Ever since you've come into my life it's like it's been turned upside down and it's all gone a bit fuzzy, 'n' at times it's a bit unsettling, but it's beautiful at the same time and well there's even bits of glitter" Okay, I'm an arse, my voice drops to a grudging whisper "shiny exciting bits of glitter." Shit, I never meant to say all that, obviously, 'cause who in their right mind would come out with something stupid like that, and I'm not even gonna' think about the fact that he's my superior officer 'n' his 3 pips are staring me straight in the face, and of course behind them there's a perfect set of abs which I'd really quite like to see again, without fucking it up with a mortifyingly stupid statement.

When I dare to look up there's surprise on his face, though the corner of his mouth is twitching before he resumes a deadpan look; shit I think I've blown this. "I was expecting something a bit more..."

"Sorry Sir, fuck, I'm sorry, don't know what I was thi….."

"Dawes" He interrupts, a grin now on his face, one that goes from one side of his face to the other, his hands jammed into his pockets but he flicks his head to the side, starting our journey again, silence as we walk.

We've reached his quarters which is good timing 'cause I can head off and throw myself in front of a truck though I'm not sure with the 15 mile an hour speed limit that'll do much good, a broken ankle or wrist at most but I'll think of something, maybe see if the nice Taliban want to borrow me for a few days…. On second thoughts maybe not. "Yes Sir?"

"I've got to go, meeting with the Major and the Americans" He winks, making me relax a bit. "Above and beyond as always though." Just as he's about to open his door, ending our conversation he turns back to me. "Now as a trade off for that eloquent speech, there will be a kit inspection at 17:00."

-og-

Stark brown eyes are staring at me as he takes a breath, there's something going on but I don't know what, a tension about him that hadn't been there only 5 hours ago, then it's as if he drags his eyes away, looking at some of the other lads, there's nothing there of our esteemed friendly CO, even though we've all passed, with a bit of help from yours truly, all the lads deciding to clean their weapons as they saw me sitting down, getting my stuff out and telling them that Kinder's might be right. His voice is unemotional, detached, like it was that first day in the tent but then there was a hint of arrogance that's not evident today, maybe I'm reading too much into it but it's as if he's uneasy, unsure "It is imperative that you remember that our tour is not over, we are still here to fight a war, not laze about as if you're on decompression. I will not have anyone take their eyes off the task in hand. Understood?" His gaze fixes on me for a second, another unidentifiable look crossing his face before his stern mask takes over again. "Kinders" Even our Corp is getting the harsh treatment, no emotion in the boss's face as he calls him out.

When he leaves we all look at each other, as if one of us is gonna' know why there's been a change. It's Brain's, the one who I trust, the one who I never question that speaks "Maybe he's had bad news from home or something" He shrugs "Maybe his kid's not well."

"What?" It's out of my mouth, sharp, before I can stop myself "He's got a kid?"

Smurf just looks at me before looking away, nodding his head as if he's answering me without words, the lads have gone back to a conversation between themselves, like what they'd been before this bomb had exploded beneath my feet, Smurf looks at me again, uncomfortable "The Boss" embarrassed as he says it, not meeting my eye, which is worse as I think he knows something's going on.

My last hope that we're talking at cross purposes, a final grasp at righting this, that I can stem this feeling of panic. "Captain James?"

"Yeah, he's married with kids."


	20. Big Girls Don't Cry

**As always thanks for reading xx**

"Sir."

He doesn't react to my presence, I even wonder if he's heard me, his focus fixed on the map in front of him. He moves resting his weight on his back foot, hands placed on the table until whatever he's seen causes him to stroke his jaw as he contemplates. I want to scream at him but I can't, there's too many people in this tent, all going about their operational business 'n' anyway that's not my style. "Yes Dawes"

"Can I have a minute Sir?"

That got his attention, his head spins as it turns towards me, the V between his eyes deepens as he assesses me, for once he doesn't take in the black bags under my eyes, or ask if I'm alright "Now's not a good time." pausing briefly with his eyes still on mine, a half smile as if he's trying to take away the harshness of his tone, going back to whatever's so important on the table, his fingers go to his hair, tugging his curls, he must see me out the corner of his eye 'cause he half turns and does that fucking annoying head tilt towards the exit.

"Sir, I really need…."

"Not now Private."

I stand, not moving an inch, thinking about my next move, the pain has returned; the gut wrenching ache that kept me awake all night as I tried to hide my emotions from a tent full of guys, the loneliness of my world falling apart and having no one to share it with. When I was younger my parents sometimes couldn't afford medicine like Calpol, that when I was ill they'd make the excuse that it was better that my body fought the pains or the temperature I had by itself, that it would make me stronger; maybe this will make me stronger. I'll never be the same, won't ever trust the same again, can never see me feeling this way about anyone in my lifetime but it won't break me, no it will be the jealousy that has the best chance of doing that; it's the worst, tormenting myself with images of him with his family, the life that I can't have with him, that until this moment I hadn't realised I'd craved so much.

He's moved, not even thinking that I would still be here, flouting his instruction, his back is to me now, shoulders tense as he studies, occasionally taking notes. I look around the tent, no one is paying me any attention, why would they? I take one step forward and then another, each footfall calculated in the event that if anyone but him notices I can change my course and make it look as if I'm leaving. He's so engrossed that he doesn't notice me inching closer until I'm right behind him; within touching distance, I can smell him, and I feel the tears that have been threatening since yesterday push there way to the corners of my eyes, then I remember; I'm Molly Dawes, a survivor, it doesn't matter that I thought that one day I would be waking up to him, that I'd created a whole life that revolved around us, I need to get out of this with some respect, so I lean forwards until I'm almost on my tiptoes my chin jutting until I'm at his ear, a deep breath that's shaky when I release it, he helps, 'cause he realises I'm there and he turns in surprise so he's closer and I whisper, not attempting to hide the anger in my voice "Forget the shit about the snowglobe Sir, don't know what I was thinking."

With every stride that it takes me to leave him behind I hold my breath, my ears listen out for the recognisable sound of his footsteps, my courage has obviously upped and left 'cause I'm hoping that he doesn't follow me, that we never need to talk about it again, I'm lucky there's no echo of a familiar footfall behind me; he's not come. For a minute I'm not sure where to go, a feeling of claustrophobia as I look around, desperately wanting to be somewhere alone, then I know.

It's when I sit down on the toilet that I breathe, letting the air back into my lungs, almost a head rush as the oxygen floods into my bloodstream. One lone tear breaches, tickling it's way down my face, it's enough to start the tide, at first I'm silent but then it all becomes too much, my chin becoming wet as I rest my head against the wall and let out the sob that's been building since last night.

Time passes, I know this 'cause every few minutes someone comes in, does their business giving me the opportunity to wait for the sound of a flushing toilet to let out my next strangled sob, a small price to pay for the temporary solitude. My irony is that for the last 5 months it's been him that I've gone to, I push aside the thought that he he's been the first supportive person that I've had in my life, that just doesn't bear thinking about. Somewhere along this tour I've fallen head over heels in love, the kind that you only get once in your life, where you give yourself up completely to someone, that your heart only beats for them. Jesus, I bang my head against the partition, which was stupid 'cause it hurts - I've been a fool. I wanted to speak to him today, to ask him if it was true before I lost my confidence, or what little shards of it I've got left. But the truth must be that I've bought into a lie that I've created. The army regulation toilet paper is rough against my nose, I give a loud blow, cathartic as the Boss would say, trying to stop the next flow of tears before they take over my eyes.

It's on the 50th flush, yeah I've been counting, needing something concrete to battle against the shifting thoughts that's going through my nut, that I've had enough self pity, wiping my eyes on the sleeve of my top, lifting the seat and flushing the toilet, walking out as if I'm fine, I'm not aiming for anything more than that, never have high expectations, I'd thought I'd learnt that but I really have now; without a doubt it's been hammered into me this time.

The face in the mirror is mine, I do that whole thing where I look to see if I'm different, but I ain't. There's nothing special, just a girl who needs their bleedin' eye brows done. It's a relief to splash water, obscuring my view, calming the redness, 20 face washes it takes - I'm still counting - until my face stops resembling a belisha beacon, then I can find and join my section. Already the lie that I've got PMT or something ready to trip off my tongue when they question my strange behaviour of last night and today; I know they'll accept it easy enough.

"You alright?" Smurf places a bottle of water in front of me. Sitting beside me, ignoring my defensive body language. I raise my eyes, hopeful that he gets the hint to piss off, I'd assumed that I'd have longer than this, 5 minutes of sitting in a canteen before being interrupted, taking a sip of water, wasting time screwing the lid on as I think of what to say "Why the fuck wouldn't I be Smurf?"

"I'm not stupid" He states, his eyes constantly moving as if he's watching for someone.

Smiling at him, I laugh making it as genuine as possible, "What you've waited 5 months to tell me that?"

I think I fail, his eyes settle on me with concern. "You've got feelings for him, you wouldn't be the first soldier to fancy their CO you know"

"I don't…"

I stop my answer, it was too snippy, defensive but he's already offended, his face crushed, then he recovers, his shoulders straightening as he watches me, trying to read me.

"It's fine, I was just trying to I dunno' be nice, I wouldn't say to anyone"

"Good 'cause there ain't nothing for you to say" .

"Well anyway, I'm here if you need me. Saving my life has got to be worth something" Silence falls between us, an undercurrent to it, he exhales a few times and I know he's going to speak. "Bossman was looking for you" To his credit he doesn't raise his eyes when my head whips up, every emotion displayed on my face "We didn't know where you were." He offers as way of an explanation.

"Do you know where he is?"

Smurf nods, his eyes following a path that mine pursue. "He's there."

His eyes travel, starting at my feet, one centimetre at a time until they meet mine. They are dark to the point that they're almost black, if I'd taken the time to notice earlier I'd realise that he looks as if he's lacking in sleep, dark circles under them, but there's still a brightness, a question in them, one which I'm not gonna' answer. "Sir"

"Everything alright?"

"Why wouldn't it be Sir?"

He watches me, his forehead locks at whatever he takes from my expression, it looks like he's counting in his head but that there's nothing satisfying about the answer he comes up with, then he shakes his head, I see the warmth evaporate; like a fire going out, his jaw clenched. "You're angry with me." It's a rhetorical question, to the point that it's a statement of fact, seconds pass and he's still observing me, his eyebrows slightly raised, he interrupts as I eventually think of something to say, his words apologetic; soft "Dawes can I ask that whatever the fuck I've done to piss you off is put on the back burner, there's been a development"

"What do you mean?"

"Badrai, the American's want him, and somehow you're the only bloody person in the bloody world that has ever eye balled him." His features fold as if he feels helpless. "They need you to identify him. Can you do that?"

My stomach twists, fear starting it's adventure through my body. "Yeah of course"

"Unless of course you could do a fucking excellent artist's impression of him."

"I can't draw Sir"

For a minute there's a truce, our relationship back on an even keel as we smile, caught up in each other, the flicker of light returns to his eyes, drawing me in; then he becomes vigilant as he takes in our surroundings, his voice dropping so only I can hear "I can't tell you how much I want to keep you safe."

"Back burner, that's what you said ain't it." I snap.

He nods, taking a step back, the light diminishing until his eyes are a flat brown colour, ramming his hands into his pockets he fixes me with a wary side glance. "You'd better get ready, the ANA are waiting for us."

-og-

"Well he took an instant dislike to me." I've watched him for the last 5 minutes as I've sat on the back of the troop carrier, waiting for this chance to be alone, my heart rate increasing as he finished his conversation with Taj and made his way over to me, his stride purposeful as if they'd kept him away from me.

His eyebrows knit together and I can see the battle in his eyes as he looks at my face, assessing "Should be alright. Don't think he's broken your nose" He leans across, my knee touching his hip, passing me some gauze strips, our fingers touch, it's as if time stops, my throat going dry as my body recognises the contact of him. "Does it hurt?"

"A bit." I look around me, glancing quickly away as the ANA come out, the sight of body bags is one that I'll never get used to, my body shivering involuntarily as I fix on a point in the distance, watching a swirling flock of swallows instead, at the feeling of pressure on my shoulder, I shrug, instantly dislodging it. At once I miss him.

His voice is sad, whether for the death toll on this tour or whether 'cause he realises I can't bear him to touch me, I don't know, nothing has made sense in the last 20 hours. "They were making bombs Molly."

"I know." The words fall onto deaf ears as his body tenses, drawing himself up to his full height and when I look across at the compound I see my assailant, my eyes flit back to Charles, I'm watching with interest the masculine need to protect me even though he's not mine; never will be, his eyes narrow as he watches the shackled detainee being put in the back of another truck, then he relaxes, resting his hip against the ledge beside me. "Thank you."

Widening his eyes he looks at me as if for the first time ever, his voice low, very low as if he knows what's comings not a compliment. "What for?"

"You've always looked after me, made me the best that I can be on this tour 'n' I am grateful for that." I look away, turning my head to study the protective grill, he'll see my eyes brimming with tears, see the truth if I don't.

"That's my job." He says it softly, patiently.

"I know but you've gone a bit above and beyond ain't you. I want you to leave me alone now though…." I clear my throat, keeping the catch out of my voice. "Don't touch me, don't cross any lines, I want us to be professional. You're right this." My finger covers the distance between us "Isn't worth ruining either of our careers for."

"What brought this about Molly?"

"For a start I'm Dawes or obviously Private 'cause you quite like calling me that when you want to put me in my place, whatever really but not Molly. Sir."

He's frozen, his mouth parted slightly, he's just staring at me, then he blinks and it's as if he's just cleared all our history from his memory, there's nothing there. I've miscalculated, no surprise there with my bleedin' history with those subjects at school, I thought he'd have asked, given me the chance to take out my hurt on him, for him to tell me that I'd got it wrong; somehow but I've been wrongfooted. He lifts his gun, taking two steps away, then stopping, his shoulders rising, being held there before they drop and he turns his head towards me, not looking at me though, rather fixed on my shoulder. "When you get back I want you to get checked out at the medical centre."

My rage has gone, leaving me with a gaping hole of emptiness. "I'm fine."

"That's an order Private."

I raise my voice "You once said Sir, that you had a dog that it weren't allowed to stay with you?" A last desperate attempt, he hears, stopping again, turning and looking at me, a flicker of helplessness as he realises his time is up. "Did your wife not let you keep the dog then Sir?"


	21. Sticking to the script

**I am so sorry for the delay, there's been days and days of staring at a screen and willing the words to magically appear (they didn't) hopefully you enjoy and it's not too much of a disappointment! Thank goodness we have the awesomeness of TG's wonderful story telling to definitely look forward to - and well obviously a certain Captain in Combats :)  
**

If it wasn't for the swathes of fabric on his helmet blowing in the light breeze I'd think he'd bloody froze, his body is stock-still, his eyes unblinking, staring at me; holding no emotion. "It's true then?" The words don't reach him straight away, possibly because my throat was constricted, the words spoken with fear, disappointment, making them harder to make out, or whether he needs time but eventually he swallows, his adam's apple prominent as it bobs once, twice, eyes blinking, his body coming to life as he straightens, the trajectory of his eyes dropping to my chin.

"Yes, I have a son."

I nod, one nervous habit leading to another as I start to chew my bottom lip. A rush of noise crashes into my head, giving me an instant headache, I want to be sick. There's too many thoughts at once, the innocent, naive, optimistic side fighting that there's still hope, that the man I've come to know, that this isn't him. The rational side however is screaming at me, that he's played me, used me, discarded me, the toe-curdling fear that this is the real him. "I don't want to hate you" God I want to beg, ask him to tell me something to explain it, anything that's going to make this pain better.

His eyes never leave my jaw, they're dark now, a million thoughts going on behind them, his shoulders tense, unyielding, then he takes a deep breath, his voice almost defeated "I can't help how you feel about me."

I look up at the bright blue sky, fighting against the tears of hurt and frustration that are gathering, "I could report you, you know?" It's an empty threat, designed to cause maximum damage, he shrugs as if it doesn't matter, but it's not in me to play dirty, and anyway images are going through my head of everything I've done wrong on this tour; every rule broken, every regulation flouted, I'd be a hypocrite. "I wouldn't though." I say sadly.

"I know, thank you."

"Can I just ask one thing though?" His jaw flexes in an internal battle, he looks around him as if he's looking for an excuse, a reason to end this conversation now, end us "I think you owe me that much Sir. " He nods, looking back down to the ground, his foot finding a pebble or something, moving it with his toe. "Why did you pretend that you cared?"

His eyes widen in surprise, the only sign of life in his hollowed face, that obviously hadn't been the question he'd expected, his mouth stumbling over his words "I do….." He stops, gathering himself, seconds pass then he looks at me, "Dawes, I need to focus on this mission, nothing else matters."

"And if it weren't for this mission? Would you tell me that you were sorry, 'cause the person I know he'd say that, he wouldn't make someone believe that they'd care just for the fun of it."

He starts backing away, watching me, it's as if with every step he's detaching himself, breaking our connection. "You should get ready, the ANA will be leaving soon." And just like that he turns and walks away.

* * *

"Molls we're going to Heroes later for a pint, you want to join us?" Smurf; the perpetual puppy that can never be kicked down for long; or something like that makes his way up the steps to join me, though maybe pain in the bleedin' arse is more apt for him. However, I wish I had just a bit of his ability to bounce back, I'm trying, really, but going by the way he's looking at me as he picks paint of the platform railing I ain't fooling anyone. He turns his puppy dog eyes on me, his voice pleading. "Come on, I don't even want to know what's going on. I'm not interested" He shrugs, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth "Anyway all I want to chat about is how shittin' hot us Welsh blokes are, and you are gonna' tell me"

"Dream on mate, we could cover that whilst I lace up my boots." The task in-front of me is mind numbingly boring, saying that I don't know if I could be trusted with anything, not looking at Smurf as I answer. My mind is still all over the place, images of small brown eyed kids, and a gorgeous female with their arm through Charles keep squeezing into my conscious, I wished they'd piss off. It ain't helpful.

He straightens up, feigning indignation at my answer. "Not quite mastered the art of laces yet Molls, take you a long time?"

"Nah, shagging sheep and singing, that about covers it does it not?"

"Fair point, but at least come, we can finalise Vegas."

Obviously I hadn't planned on going to Vegas with the lads, I'd had different plans for my leave, ones that I'd hope would be mainly horizontal but well, it doesn't look like they will be happening now, and when they'd talked about it today, the heat, the gambling, the drinking yourself into oblivion I'd kinda' suggested that I could go; something to look forward to. My future's looking a bit shittin' bleak if I'm being honest. "I've never been abroad before, well apart from this shit hole."

"You are definitely coming, I'll even pay for you."

I recount again, my tedious task, writing the number of boxes containing god knows what down before I forget. "Don't be daft, I'll have my own money" The world makes an attempt to settle again in my brain, pleased to have something positive to think about, then giving me some bloody clarity I turn accusingly to my friend "How is it Smurf that I'm working and you ain't?" I didn't need to be here, following the lads out the tent when Kinders had looked for volunteers, the Corp had stopped me, his gaze flitting to my cut lip, telling me that it was maybe better if I rested. I'd shook my head, playing the 'better being busy' card, he hadn't seemed pleased.

Smurf looks over into the back of the flat bed, his face scrunched up "You can't really call it working when all you're doing is counting boxes, can you? And anyway here's where we will be staying Caes…..."

"I thought you lot were supposed to be working."

"Jesus Christ did you send him a telepathic message?" Smurf looks at me in panic, he makes a futile attempt to grab the clipboard from my hands, a look of horror on his face that he's gonna' get into trouble for skiving, I giggle, my first real laugh since yesterday, it feels like longer as if my body can't remember what it was like to be happy, not for a minute that I'm ecstatic or anything like that don't get me wrong, I'm well, I suppose me for a minute or two; the East End girl who always gets herself back on her feet. When I look at him, the Boss man, he's not watching Smurf, ain't ready to give him a bollocking, he's watching me, a look of confusion on his face before it clears, his voice ringing out loud and clear, an instruction that leaves me in no doubt of our new relationship.

* * *

His stride is longer than mine, covering the ground, he's still not told me what he needs me for though going by the look of determination on his face he's not looking to apologise soon, leading the way as we leave the familiar bit of Bastion, I slow down, it's a few steps before he realises that I'm not keeping up, he almost does a double take, then regulates his stride, waiting for me and giving me a look of disgust.

A chill slithers down my back, that this is it, the way he's gonna' treat me from now on. It's another few yards before the silence is getting to me, he's started to speed up again as if he can't wait for this to be over. "Do you think they put any of this stuff on ebay?"

"What?"

I nod towards the work going on around us, "All of this."

"I don't think so Dawes." He snaps.

"You can just imagine all the Taliban sitting round their computers though eh, waiting to win some containers or some sandbags? Bidding against each other. Hoping we've left a tank or something in it. One careful owner."

Hearing a low snort I turn, looking at him, his head dips towards me belying for a minute his body language "Might be a problem if it's buyer collect though."

Giggling I go to nudge him with my elbow, then as his face falls, everything about him tense: I remember. I fall silent again letting out a sigh, looking around me to see if I know where we're heading. I don't. "Can't wait to get home. Think I'm the only one though, all the lads would have been happy to stay in the fob."

"Would you not have?"

"What stayed in the fob?" He nods his head, I shrug, feeling uncomfortable as he looks at me out the side of his eye. "Dunno', kind of feel I fucked it all up what with Bashira, and the good bits, well, when I look back it were all just false I suppose. What about you Sir?"

He comes to an abrupt halt, unfortunately I don't, meaning that we're a good few paces apart, I wait to see if he closes the gap but he doesn't, I don't either, I'm not making the effort anymore.

Two steps it takes him to stand in front of him. "I'd do it all differently." The tick in his jaw starts its solo dance, our conversation stopped as a section jogs passed us. We've started walking again, I'm mulling over what he's said, I presume he means me, that he'd have sent me back at Brize or maybe even that he'd slept with me, got a bit more fun out of me before the bombshell was dropped, it's a good few paces before we continue our conversation, his head turned the other way, taking an interest now it's what's going on around us. "You look happy." He looks down at me, his shoulders rise and fall, his voice dropped, the usual worry that he could be overheard, he smiles, if you can call the corners of his mouth lifting and then falling "I'm glad."

"Don't have any other option do I?" Our footsteps are in symmetry, ironic really seeing as we're so at odds with each other. "You hold all the cards."

"What do you mean?" It's as if his stride falters, his face scrunched up with confusion, I don't fall for it though, I've learned.

"I'd love to tell you that you're a dick, that I hate you and I'll be happy to never see you again, screaming all that at the top of my voice if I had my way, I'd feel better for it, but I can't, can I? You're my CO, I'm part of a team and well life's shit, I know that. Just need to put on a brave face ain't I"

The confusion lifts from his face, replaced with the familiar stern mask, there was a moment inbetween where there was something else there like horror or dismay or surprise, but I'm fed up trying to read him, what do I know, I've got it wrong all along so far. He stops, suddenly, the sign on the wall behind him reading 'detention centre' his expression angry as he stares at me. "We can discuss it all once we're back at Brize Dawes."

"What are we gonna' do it as part of my appraisal?" I ask innocently "Would that come under team working Sir, or maybe personal issues… it's a bit of a difficult one ain't it?"

The back of his neck is massaged, his long fingers digging into the tight muscles, he mutters something, even replaying it again 'n' again in my nut I can't work out what it is, then he exhales a breath. "The Americans want to speak to you."

"Me Sir?" That's fuckin' put my gas at a bleedin' peep.

"Yes" He gives 2 nods of his head, crossing his arms, resuming his position of power. "It appears that the detainee knows you."

"Me Sir?"

To give him credit, he doesn't react to my repeated answer, not even a raise of his eyes, only the v between them deepening as he thinks what to say. "They want you to go in and speak to him, find out what he knows, but I'm not certain."

"Of what?"

"If that's the best course of action. He's already been violent to you Dawes. I'm not putting you at risk." His answer is clipped, the sentence finished as if I don't have a say in anything, his brain going onto something else.

I snort, it ain't ladylike but it gets the message across. "You're worried about me getting another clump. Believe you me mate, that were nothing. That'll heal." Unconsciously my tongue tests the split in my lip, the wince I do spotted by old eagle eyes but he don't look smug, his eyebrows knit together with concern, watching me as if he expects me to say something else, he looks as if I've bloody hurt him, if he's the injured party. "Had we not better get in there Sir?"

A hand grips onto my elbow, a warm breath touches my jaw as I'm pulled towards him "I can't protect you." In reality the fingers digging into my skin are painful, intrusive but I can feel myself leaning into him. "I never wanted this to happen." When I look up at him, there's only confusion on his perfect features, his eyes searching mine, seeking something; an answer possibly. I go to pull away but he stops me, looking around him as he does, I almost jump when his other hand cups my chin, tipping my face up so he's got my attention. "You need to trust me."

"I can't" Swallowing, smiling sadly I start to pull away, he lets me, his hands falling to his side.

"I understand." I've taken a few steps when his voice stops me, my treacherous soul wanting to be with him, I don't turn back round. "It probably makes my job easier if you hate me anyway." It's like we're both magnets pulling towards each other, internal strength needed not to spin round, tell him that I could never hate him. I carry on entering the facility, sensing him behind me.

Life is strange. I'm standing here, in a hot dusty foreign country, feeling as if I'm in a film. I still haven't worked out who the bloody good guy is but it certainly ain't me. It's like I'm having to go along with a script that I've got no control over, knowing how it's gonna' go; dreadin' the ending as words come out of my mouth as if I've had to learn them; not having had a thought process about them, contemplated them or worked out how they're going to affect the way it all plays out. Parts of the plot are slipping scarily, uncontrollably into place. If you came in at this bit, sat down and watched us as characters you'd think it was the Boss that was the hero , I'd be the fuck muppet, the last 5 months catching up with me, but him, you'd look at him as he diplomatically argues with a senior officer, tries to protect me, his eyes dark, strong, compelling, then he looks at me as I say my line "Permission to speak to the detainee Sir." His eyes widen with horror, the colour of the darkest coffee as he turns to the Major, his jaw clenches, spitting his words out "I don't think that's a good idea Sir" If he was an actor you'd think that his lines had been changed, without his approval, the director overruling him. I know I've got my way, he knows, that the Afghani who punched me, my name the only thing apart from Bashira that I could understand is gonna' be sitting in front of me, that I'm gonna' have to be strong, stand up to my responsibility in all this, take the consequences.

"Count to ten then follow us in."

They troop in one by one, Qaseem my loyal friend giving me a concerned look as he passes me by, then it's just me and the Boss, I look across at him, surprised to find him watching me. I smile, sadly, then watch the door to the container closing, taking my chance; practically whispering the words. "Don't care what you tell me, I know you care about me, I don't know why you're pretending that you don't or what's going on with you having a bloody wife but…."

"But what Dawes?" It's a challenge for me to finish, a note of fear in his tone that makes me know that I'm right.

"I think I might have bleedin' forgot to count to ten. "


	22. Photographs

**Many many apologies for taking so long with this, I have redone this chapter so many times and hope it passes muster because I'm struggling to be objective about it! Thanks for reading :)**

The thing with being in the Army is that it's drummed into you from day one that you need to respect those higher in Command, it's a non-negotiable as the Bossman would say. Not to say that I ain't tried taking the piss throughout my career, life would be boring if you followed all the rules but there's a time 'n' place as my Nan would say and this is one, our footfalls are in sync again, going in the opposite direction this time, both of us quiet, contemplative or shittin' scared as I would say. It's like the last 5 months we've been playing at soldiers and now it's the real deal. I'm aware that every few steps he looks down at me, so far I've ignored him keeping my attention resolutely forward, then when I think about Bashira I let my guard down, looking towards him, seeking the reassurance I need. "They're gonna' get her ain't they."

"Nope."

They are, he's just being kind, and it's all my fault. If I had just listened once, for christ sake how many times did he tell me not to get personally involved. He's not even looking at me which is a bad sign, as if he doesn't want me to see the doubt in his eyes. "Yes they are."

His head whips round towards me, his hand extending, proving a point on each word. "No, he won't because we're going to support the ASF and make sure that doesn't happen."

The problem with that is he means him and 2 section, not just me, I could cope if it was just me, after all it was because of me that they're getting put into danger. "If it weren't for me they would be eatin' sausages and playing volleyball."

"They should be doing the job they came out here to do and that isn't eating sausages and playing volleyball Dawes." This journey has ended for him, reaching his quarters, I stop too, putting off the moment of being alone, off having to look at the faces of those that I've betrayed by putting them in danger.

"It's all my fault." I whisper, angrily, he looks around us, I know we're not alone, a platoon behind us getting ready for a mission, maybe he's wondering if he should ask them to go with me instead of 2 section 'cause that would be fucking awesome but I'm wrong he looks down at me, his hand pulling the handle down as he motions with his head;

"Come here."

"No"

I don't think anyone's ever said no to him in his life, his eyes don't settle for a minute, a flicker of confusion in their depths then they still, his mouth taking over the show, giving up the pretence that he's not affected. "We can't discuss this out here."

"There ain't anything to discuss, if I go in there with you 'n' … well it won't look good." I jut my chin out as if that's gonna make any difference.

"Fine." Challengingly he raises his eyes "I need a word with you Private."

"What? that's a bleedin' order?"

He arches one eyebrow, his eyes uncompromising to the point they're cold. "Do you want to disobey it and find out?" Not waiting for an answer he turns away from me, heading into his quarters the door open for me to follow.

"We've got 5 minutes at the most before Kinders arrives" He puts down the small internal phone, turning to me, his eyes fixing on my rifle that I've not yet put down, it's my security, not that I want to shoot him or anything obviously but it doesn't look as if we've been up to stuff or nothing like that….. I think. Sighing, he crosses his arms, for once there's an insecurity about him, he kinda' suits it, then all expression leaves his face, his words obviously rehearsed. "I'm not married, I'm divorced, the night we met well, my papers had just come through, I was out for a 'celebrate your divorce' lads night." His laugh is devoid of humour "Crap idea."

My brain can't take it in, I should be relieved surely, but I can't work it out, if this makes it all better or if I should still be pissed with him. The tenuous grip I've had on my emotions over the last few days threatening to explode, resentment, anger, hurt all circling in the dry air of his quarters. Scathingly I question him. "What getting your end away?"

"It wasn't like that."

In the few minutes I've had I pick up clues that I hadn't even acknowledged before, my eyes having tried to memorise everything in this room to try and piece together this new Charles; the husband, the father, not the single young guy who'd maybe had life a bit easy that I'd had him down as. It was obvious with hindsight, the photo I'd noticed the minute I'd walked in had been on his desk in the Fob only I'd put it down as being a nephew or something. Shrugging nonchalantly I walk over and pick it up, feeling the warmth radiating from him as he doesn't move, standing close to me, watching me as I take in the similarities to him of the boy in the frame. "Don't get upset I weren't exactly out for a relationship that night either, it was just a shag and I was happy for it to stay that way."

"Were you?"

"Course." I lie.

"I don't think so." He hasn't finished speaking, his hands rammed into his pockets, "I think you've felt exactly the same way Dawes. We're attracted to each other, we get on… I enjoy your company."

"Preferably horizontal though. Who's this?"

"My son Sam. He's 6 and I see him as much as I can, he's the most important person in my life. And no, in answer to your question it's not just sexual between us. It never has been." There's a hint of frayed nerves in the latter part of his answer, as if he's just managing to keep a check of his emotions.

"Bet you crapped yourself when you saw me at Brize?"

"I have to be honest…."

"Makes a change."

"... and say that it wouldn't have been top of my list of how we met up again."

Putting the picture down, trying to quell the childish hint of jealousy I feel towards this boy with the big brown eyes who has the undevoted attention of the man I love, I pick up the pink capsule of coffee, my gift to him when I'd thought that everything was gonna' be easy. Putting the pod down, I turn, leaning against the desk, copying his body language and crossing my arms, asking the question that frightens me the most, the words that could end any chance of us being together. "What do we do now Boss?"

There's two seats, his quarters doubling as his office, not that I've ever been in here before, I'm quite glad, it's like sensory overload, it's as if the room's the essence of him, the scent, his belongings and where he sleeps, my mouth going dry when I look at the neatly made bed ignoring the clenching in the pit of my stomach. He sits down with a sigh, leaning forward and running his hands through his hair, when I sit next to him, he stops his nervous action turning and looking at me, his knee bumping against mine but I move, shift, give myself some space. "I agree. We end this."

His watch shows that it's been 4 minutes since he made that phone call, calling Kinders to his quarters, perfectly timing it so that I can't argue, only a whimper at the finality of his statement the despair that I show, his eyes change fast but I'm too knackered to understand them. I start to stand then stop as his voice, gentle, unsure breaks the silence. "I'm going to give you something Dawes." I look at him in surprise, he's leaning back reaching for something in his pocket, the hollow on his cheeks, the lack of emotion in his eyes is back, his gaze shifty as he looks at me out of the corner of his eyes. "You have to understand." He pauses, his face pained. "That all that matters to me is getting you home safely, that you can continue to be the soldier that you've become."

I can't do anything about his decision, you can't make someone want you no matter how much you need them, you can however be hurt and pissed, I'm both but I'll wait till I'm alone to deal with it. "What a shit one?"

His laugh is sad, but he's amused, a flicker of warmth in his eyes, then he shakes his head. "You've taught me that I need to engage my brain, see the bigger picture and well, that includes my feelings towards you." The small piece of paper in his hand is turned, his fingers not at peace, then they still "Dawes, you've saved that little girl, if it hadn't been for you well I'd hate to think how this tour would have turned out. You should be proud of yourself" He exhales a breath, sounding tired, resigned "If I'm being honest, it's not going to be an easy mission tonight. I'm concerned."

"It'll be alright." What is left of my heart after the last few days is breaking, crumbling into jagged fragments that's hurting. I can't believe that a few minutes ago I was considering that maybe I didn't want the baggage, the child that would be part of our relationship before it had even started. I think that possibly if he asked, I'd even accept his ex-wife if he told me that she was still an important part of his life, anything except a life without him that's slowly, confusingly becoming the reality.

"You're reassuring me, how the hell did that happen?' He grins, his face lighting up, his shoulder nudges into me, pushing me, I lean back against him, feeling my body relaxing but then the comfort's gone, his attention on the fucking piece of paper that I'm desperate to find out what it is. "But, I can't concentrate, be 100% focussed if I'm worried about us, our relationship, I need to keep a clear head. I know I fucked up, that I should have told you but I didn't, it was a choice between getting more involved or giving us the space that I thought we needed, I made the wrong choice, I'll have to live with that and well, when we get back, it's up to you. So…." He pushes the piece of paper towards me, our fingers touching as I take it out of his hand, it's folded so I can't see what it is, at that moment the interruption of the door opening, standing I put the piece of paper in my pocket, my hand coming back out as I stand, straightening, my corporal joining us.

We do it well, there's not even a hint of suspicion on Kinders face when he comes in, a brief questioning look at me then the Bossman's introduction takes his attention, his update on the latest development's falling on keen ears. Kinders eyes widen then there's a glimmer of excitement and I suppose to them that this is what they want to do, the adrenalin pumping opportunity to put their training into practice, to get the bad guys. I want them to do that too, but I want them to be safe, selfishly a need to not cock up anything more on this tour.

It's half an hour later when I get back to our tent, finding it empty, I'm glad I need peace and quiet for this, putting my rifle down I perch on the edge of my bed, taking a long deep breath before taking the scrap of paper out of my combats, turning it, then I open it and smile, my world righting again, that this could be the beginning; not the end. I have his fucking phone number.


	23. Ditches

**Thanks as always for reading and taking the time to comment, it's much appreciated. Hope you enjoy and I promise the next chapter is a spit and polish away from being uploaded :)**

The ditch is pitch black, the contrast after the withdrawal of the helicopter meaning that I can't get my bearings, can't work out who's around me, I reach up to pull down my night vision goggles, my hand shaking making it difficult to release them, then I hear the clatter of rocks, feel a stone brush against my foot as it's disturbed and then he's there, bumping into me, the heat of his body as he misjudges the distance calming the agitation that's been building ever since I left the chinook. "You alright?" His voice sounds loud in the eery silence, but chances are only I can hear him, the dropped tone merging into the quiet hum of conversation from the lads, his hands move in the darkness pulling down the scope with an ease that I lacked until it's covering my eye, casting a distorted greenish view of the world. "Use it until you're acclimitised to the darkness, okay?"

"Yes Sir."

Months now of being a group, looking out for each others means that we're in sync, he doesn't need to say anything just his silence alone gets everyone's attention, our small group huddling together around him, listening to the repeated instructions; waiting, one lone light from Smurf casting a glow around us and then we're off.

Even though it's night there's an oppressive heat that's torture, the sweat dripping in rivers down my back as slowly we inch along the irrigation channel, the ground beneath our feet uneven, mini rockfalls created as every so often one of us disturbs a cluster, nearly going over on our ankles, an unwitting curse ringing out in the still of the night, a slight decrease in the speed of the rest as we unintentionally stall, a quell in our journey until there's an acknowledgement that whoever's fallen foul of the terrain has righted themselves, then we continue.

I'm behind the Boss, taking my lead from him, every so often stopping, crouching to the ground as we do a headcount, waiting for confirmation that we're together before heading off again. I try not to listen to the noises, the scuttling that's coming from the grass level with my head, try not to be spooked by the owl, hooting scarily close to my ears as it swoops catching it's prey, a disconcerting squeak, an animal that I can't identify fighting for it's life then the strange silence of nature creeps in again. I keep hoping that one of the lads will make a joke, something to cut the tension because it feels as if it's going to erupt, that we can't maintain this level of intensity.

We've got 3kms of this to go and I think if we're lucky we've done about a half, I can make out the Boss's watch lighting up for a fraction of a second,then the telltale crackle on the headsets "Move it along guys". The new pace is brutal on my joints, pain everytime I step awkwardly on a stone. I do that thing when you try and imagine what it'll be like when this is all over, that tomorrow we'll be sitting in Bastion, celebrating, our feet up, comfortable; but it's hard to visualise. I can't grasp that maybe later; tomorrow I'll not be worrying, that the guilt might lift and then it happens.

For a minute everything freezes, if I was to replay it in my nut I'd say that it was the silence before the loud crack that was the scariest but then maybe it's now, the seconds afterwards where you try to make sense of it, instinctively hitting the ground, panic that we're being shot at, that we're vulnerable, sitting targets. It's not like in training, there's no calmness to this but it's weird, instructions being whispered rather than shouted, adding to the bleedin' unrealism of everything. The only thing that's real in this moment is the fear; the one that has me question my career choice, makes me want to crawl into his body space, get him to put his arms around me and whisper in my earhole that everything would be okay, but then the strangest thing happens; I feel drops, precious drops which when I lift my face to the sky are joined by a breeze drifting across my face and then even in this situation I giggle, my hand going out, relief lightning my bones till I'm weightless "It's thunder, it's bleedin' thunder."

Not all of us are relieved, the atmosphere lifts but our esteemed Captain doesn't join in the fact that we're gonna' be on this earth for a bit longer; he's majorly rattled. I ain't ever seen him like this before, his eyes haven't left mine, his body radiating with unconcealed anger, taking minutes to regain control, I can only watch, attempt a smile with lips that painfully crack, show him the relief that I feel. I get a half smile in return but his breathing is still laboured as if for those few minutes he'd held his breath, not dared to inhale oxygen into his lungs as protocol had taken over, checking us first before giving into the silent panic that had been created inside that brain that craved order. There's a time limit on us, the need to get to cover before we can be spotted, he knows this but still he watches me, precious seconds ticking away, the lads are getting restless behind me, they're joking; one liners getting more raucous, the Bossman takes one deep breath, nods', waiting until I've nodded back, issues instructions to the boys, his usual authoritative clipped tone brokering no doubt as to who's in charge, effortlessly pulling the lads back into line and then we're on the move again.

The bunkers small, claustrophobic almost, the light from the rising sun highlighting the dust that's swirling, adding a surrealness to the man in front of me issuing instructions, the tensions built again, like the feeling of foreboding taking residence is my gut., so much isn't in our hands, too many variables for anyone to be complacent. It's almost with relief that I follow his orders, heading through to the small side room, darker than the other room but still a shaft of light coming in from a small window. I'm not alone for long before Smurf comes in, his presence annoying before he's even opened his gob. I keep working, fixing everything for the worst case scenario that someone gets injured, there's a blackness in my head when I think of it, it's getting too close.

"This is it Dawesy."

"What?"

"We can make a difference. Get Badrai."

I can hear him moving about behind me, his steps crossing the concrete floor, he's unsettled, maybe for him this is his chance to 'avenge' the death of his brother that he's out here to do. "Let's hope so and then we can get home."

Smurf exhales a breath, it's as if it's practiced, that he's seen someone else doing it and thought it looked good. "I was thinking when we get back, maybe we could go for a drink. You know."

"Dream on mate, when I get back all I'll be doing is having baths and keeping away from blokes. I think I've seen enough for a while." And maybe making a phone call and seeing a lot of one guy in particular but Smurf doesn't need to know that.

"So you're not going to have anything to do with us?"

"If I see any of you again ever it'll be too soon." Even though I'm laughing Smurf looks hurt.

"But we're mates Molls." He changes the subject. "Everything alright with you and the Bossman?"

Subconsciously I lift the locket on my necklace, running it along my chin as I tell a lie, "Yeah, course, it was just me being stupid. As if he'd like someone like me."

"Keep with your own Molls and you'll be alright. We'll look after you."

The man in question comes into the room, towering in his presence as he looks between Smurf and I, I even wonder if he's heard part of the conversation, then with an imperceptible nod of his head dismisses the Welshman, watching him leave before turning to me. "I don't want you staying in here alone."

"Well you shouldn't have dismissed Smurf then."

There's no humour from him, his reaction as if I've misjudged the situation. "I need you in with us, if we're attacked from the South, well it's safer." I think he's said what he's come into say, I start to get my kit together then instead of heading out of the metal door he came through, he surprises me, closing it, coming back to stand uncertainly in front of me, his bottom lip trapped between his teeth as a look of worry crosses his features, exhaling a breath as if he's confused "In that ditch. Well I thought… that it was the end. I thought of everything I should have done differently. I realised….."

"What you needed to download a decent weather app."

"No." There's a hint of a laugh, then he walks away, his footsteps taking him to the dangerous gap which leaves us vulnerable, leaning against the wall as he scans the horizon, "I wish I'd phoned, taken your number after that night. Had a normal start to a relationship."

I shrug my shoulders resigned, not that it matters he's still not looking at me, ignorant to my arms crossed defensively as I lean against the ledge on the wall, I do think about what would have happened if he had the benefit of hindsight, easily imagining how different it could all have been if he'd phoned, the anticipation of meeting him again in my dreams. "We both know what would have happened."

"Do we?" He asks surprised, giving me his full attention.

"Yeah you'd have realised that I were really just a mouthy gobby cockney and chucked me long before now."

For some reason that seems to relax him, his hands going into his pockets as he shakes his head with amusement, a lightheartedness to his challenge. "What if I like mouthy gobby cockney's?"

"I'm a lucky girl then." With an urgency he crosses the room, standing in my body space, the masculine earthy smell reassuring as I look up into his hopeful face, he's staring at me as if he needs more, swallowing against the inbuilt need to protect myself I give in. "I thought it was the end too…...and I was just glad that I was with you"

"I want you to be the last thing I see." The words rush out of his mouth as if he knows that we don't have much time left.

"Ditto." I reply trying to hold onto time, grip onto this perfect moment.

Taking a step back he tips his head towards the door, then he heads over, opening it and waiting as I get my kit, when I pass him I feel his breath against my ear. "I need you on that plane Dawes."

xxx

Together, we're together as the Bossman says, the line of us snaking our way across the bridge. The tension is back, the reality that this could go wrong, that we're being watched, or that we don't know for sure who the good guys are, possibly all our imaginations going wild but still we can't settle.

Alongside the sweat I'm sure there's also a trickle of fear making it's way down my back, a sixth sense to run in the opposite direction as we walk towards the truck. I come to a halt, my eyes fixed on the bossman, standing beside him, his eyes going round us all, checking before he starts issuing instructions - he's got this, he's in control. One by one the Afghans are helped off their transport, the wailing that all the women make with the fear that we're not to be trusted adding to the burgeoning confusion, Qaseems voice loud, unusually firm, then he's saying something that I don't understand, as if he's trying to warn us, my eyes going to the last burka clad woman standing up.

I can't tell you how I've gone from standing to lying on the ground, my eyes hurting from the bright sun, until there's a face staring into mine, I try to smile as I make out Smurf but it's too difficult as if I really need to concentrate on breathing, because there's a pain, one that's seeping through my body, I think it's from when I fell and I want to laugh at how stupid I've been but I'm getting cold and then he's there and I know there's something wrong 'cause he looks as if he's panicking, his hands rough against me, his voice anguished as he shouts instructions and I want to cry because the instructions he's shouting, the stuff he's asking for is my job and the agony that's boiling in my veins means that I can't help. His mouth is moving but I can't make out what he's saying, a rush in my head meaning I can only hear my heart that's thumping, but it's getting quieter and quieter and then it's as if i start floating, everyone getting further and further away. "Dawes, for fuck sake Dawes don't do this to me." I hear him, for a moment I come back but it's too painful, I'm too cold, I don't have the strength. "I'm sorry Sir." But I don't know if he hears me.


	24. Elephants

"Mum? Where am I, what happened?"

"Shhh darlin' you're alright."

I've got a hot searing pain in my stomach, I can't think, can't get a calmness. I can feel tears starting and I can't stop them. "Mum". The presence of my hand in hers is reassuring, my heart rate starting to slow down, it's as if it's beeping to the right of my ear, the noise vibrating. "What happened?"

"Can you not remember?"

There's a window behind her, it's dark outside, I haven't got a clue about time or anything. "I ain't got a scooby."

"Oh Molls, you gave us all a fright." A shuffling of a chair makes me imagine that she's moving closer but I'm too tired to turn my head again, swallowing against the dryness in my throat, when my mum does start speaking again she sounds sad, her voice shaky. "You were shot Molls, some bastard." The words are spat out, and I ignore the pain to turn towards her. "Shot you, shot my little girl."

"I'm alright mum, honest." I wonder what it is that makes you need to reassure someone, even when you're not sure what you're reassuring them about. "Mum?"

"Yeah darlin'"

"Has anyone been to see me?"

"Loads of folk have, your Dad and Nan have been here and Bella, we haven't let the little ones come yet, we thought we'd wait till you were better, you understand."

"What about anyone in my section."

"There's been some from the army, they've been looking after us and asking about you all the time."

"How long have I been here."

"2 weeks darlin'"

"He should have been here Mum."

"Ssshhh you're alright, come on now Molls, don't get upset."

"I need to see him mum." Her arms are around me, the smell of my childhood diminishing the hospital disinfectant. "Can you stop that beeping mum….mum I don't feel right."

"Molls, I don't know….what's happenin' is she gonna' be alright?"

xxx

I'm starting to get pissed off, like what bloody rude wanker would keep letting of that beeping noise in someone's ear hole when they're trying to sleep, and not only that, but recover from the biggest hangover ever in the history of the world. Though I can't remember the night out but it must have been a shittin' great night out 'cause this hangover is painful. Oh something nice is happenin'; it's like I'm floating and I think I'm needing to sleep again.

xxx

I'm having a dream, it's a nice one 'cause my mum and nan are in it, I'm not even havin' to say anything 'cause I feel all relaxed 'n' that, as if just by me being here that they're happy. They're not even pissed that I'm sleeping, though I'm not sure I'm sleeping, but I might be sleeping. I'm sleeping.

xxx

The lights are too bright, my eyes don't want to stay open though so I peak again, then they widen cause my Nan is there and she would have a julius seizure if she realised. I won't tell her. Fuck I need to tell her. "Nan" I wonder if I did karaoke or something too 'cause I'm all hoarse, she's not paying attention, too busy doin' a crossword or something. "Nan." She must be in a good mood 'cause she seems really pleased when she hears my voice, I'm pleased to see her too but this is important….fucking important….. "Why is there elephants behind you?"

"She's bleedin' lost it." I don't know who's lost it or what they've lost but I know my dad's here too, wherever here is 'cause it looks a bit like it's a hospital and I can't remember being in a hospital. I remember lots of things like heat, goats, paddling pools 'n' helicopters… oh and "Why would a bloke be in a burka in East Ham?"

"That will be the morphine."

I snort at the posh voice. "Someone's eatin' some marbles." God it's out of place in this room. The giggle that starts stops quickly 'cause there's something fucking sore on my belly, like it's been tied together from the inside 'n' I maybe want to scratch it too but my bleedin' head doesn't seem to want to move and jesus there's something on my finger as well, and when I lift it to in front of my nose there's a huge clothes-peg attached to it. Why would someone put a clothes peg on my finger? I need to take it off, I'm pissed 'cause I'm having difficulty doin' it and….. god it's getting worse I've got three hands. How on earth can you grow three hands "Oh bollocks one of my hands is hairy too" …. what kinda' shots must I have had? Maybe I'll just have a snooze. I'll deal with it when I wake up….. there's something on my nose. "Why have I got a moustache?" It's one of them that are sore 'cause they stick to the inside of your nose, 'n' it smells funny, great my 3rd hands returned and it's trying to hold onto my moustache, this isn't good, I don't want a moustache, I'll probably not suit one. "I need to take it out."

"No you don't Dawes."

It's like a quick exchange, the hairy hand moves and my hands, the ones that I've always had move up to my moustache, though it's bleedin' sore when my clothes peg hits my nose. "Don't press that….. you can't press that." My other hand, the one that I have no control over and needs a wax is pressing the button 'n' I mean THAT button.

"Calm down Molly."

"NO. Don't press it, it says press it for assistance." I want to cry, I am crying, everyone who's ever seen a film knows that you ain't ever supposed to press THAT button. It'll be the end of the world or something.

"Yes that's what I'm doing."

"Is everything alright?" Great, Mother fucking Theresa's joined us.

"She's getting distressed."

"Who? I can help I'm a medic."

"Do you have any pain Molly?"

You'd think she was talking to a 2 year old. "No but I've got 3 hands and a moustache."

"Don't forget the elephants."

"They're not here anymore….." I raise my eyebrows but it hurts my moustache.

"That's a good sign."

"...But there's shittin' thousands of ants." Obviously.

"I'll get the Doctor Sir, maybe reduce the intravenous morphine."

"That would be great, thank you." He looks back down at me, there's a furrow on his forehead as if he's all concerned then his face softens, he sits down, still holding one of my hands, I think he's got my new hand but I don't mind sharing with him, it probably suits him better. "Molly?"

God he's gorgeous, I wonder if he knows. Maybe he doesn't "You are so beautiful." I can't believe that someone can be so perfect, he's like an angel with perfect cheekbones, a perfect beautiful angel what can fly, I think I can fly, we're like soul mates. There's even a dimple when he smiles and when he blinks, why is it always blokes that have really long eyelashes, anyway when he blinks his eyes close and then open, I ain't ever seen someone blink so perfectly. "Your teeth." I can't take my eyes of them, they're all white and straight and, well, teethy. "I think you're perfect Sir. Charles. Captain." Shit I can't remember what he's called. "Boss." That's it. Or maybe not. "James. I think I…."

"Molly your Mum, Dad and Nan are here."

"Are they.." Happiness is bursting out of me, my lungs can't inflate with enough….. enough….. well with whatever we breath in, I'm bursting with happiness. "Your haaaiiirrrrr. What shampoo do you use?" Whatever it is I need to buy it, then I can have soft and shiny hair 'n' we'll be like perfect together. Though I'm a bit unsure about that actually 'cause he is my boss.

"Do you remember what happened?" His tone is a bit strict which is unfair 'cause I can't answer, I ain't got a clue what happened, what bar I was in or even what town I was in. "You got shot."

"Break it to her gently for godsake."

"I think I had more than one shot." Shit. "Am I in trouble?"

"No, of course you're not in trouble."

Leaning over the strange bar things that I need to get moved 'cause I'm not climbing over it everytime I go to the toilet, he places his hand on my cheek, I think he might be allergic to something 'cause his eyes are watering, mine start watering too "Fuck, Hitler's back in the bleedin' room."

"I really don't think you should call her that."

"Sorry." My hand is squeezed reassuringly by him, it's nice I squeeze it back. "What can I call her?"

He whispers back but I'm really pissed off 'cause he's moved away and taken my hand with him, though maybe it's his hand. God knows. "Nurse?"

"Nah it doesn't suit her." She's doing something to some IV bags. "Oi, Florence, what the fuck you touching them for. They're mine." I can't move much but I move my head across the pillow, keeping my eye on the bossy nurse, my suspicion is that she fancies him; big style. "Don't let her touch me. Or you for that matter."

"We've reduced the morphine but we'll need to keep an eye on her pain level and just to settle her we've given her a little extra sedative. Just press the button if you have any concerns okay."

I knew she bleedin' fancied him, she's talking to him, ignoring me. "Listen here… he only…...likes…... cockneys."

xxxx

It's daylight, or all the lights are on, I'm not sure which, I blink a few times trying to get everything into focus, then I look at the nurse who's doing something to my stomach, her face a picture of concentration, she looks at me, a reassuring smile "That's looking much better. You ready for some visitors." The questions to both me and my mum but I think mainly my mum 'cause she's nodding at her, the nurse giving me a last glance but I can't get up any enthusiasm, I just watch her as she heads through the door, her hand holding it open as she talks to someone. It's the flicker of camouflage that gets my attention, my head awkwardly turning, my eyes widening as he watches me, even with the nurse speaking he's not looking away. I can't smile, I try to smile but it's not happening. I'm too drowsy, I want to shout, panic starting to build that he'll walk away, that he doesn't want to come and see me but then he's coming into the room, walking towards me.

He looks uncertain as he comes and stands at the end of the bed "Sorry I'll not stay long."

"Sir."

"Hey." His voice is different, a break to it as he looks from me to my mum apologetically. Whatever's unspoken between them is enough for her to be standing up.

"Listen Molls, I'm gonna' go and get your dad, you know what he's like, he's found a bleedin' pub and well, he's nearly moved in, I'll tell him that you're awake again 'n' talking sense this time. though I'm sure he'll be a bit disappointed about that." All this is said as she's putting on her jacket, collecting her bag, her eyes flicking between me and the Bossman.

"What does she mean, again?"

Watching me, he slides his bergen off his shoulder before coming over, then he presses something and the bed rail that's between us comes down, his elbows rest on the mattress as he sits next to the bed. "I'm so fucking glad you're alright Dawes."

"I can't remember what happened."

His eyes still as if he's remembering, a flash of pain crosses it. "They had to resuscitate you twice. I thought I'd lost you." With his thumb he wipes a tear from my eye, then pauses, the contact still on my cheek. "I couldn't sleep." His chin judders, then stills, his head dipping before he raises his eyes to me as if he's embarrassed. "Sorry." He coughs, sitting back in the chair, crossing his arms. I miss him already. "Everything was going well. We'd got nearly everyone off the truck and then this shot fired. At first I didn't know where it had come from. then…. then someone shouted man down except it wasn't. It was you…."

I don't know what to say, the room going silent except for the beeping of the machines but there is something I need to know. "What happened to Badrai." There was fragments coming back to me, images, faces but I couldn't remember anything. Charles face freezes, he can't meet my eyes and for a minute I think he's going to tell me that he escaped, then he looks at me as if he's doesn't know me or doesn't want to see me. No emotion on his face.

"I shot him."

"I'm sorry."

"Why the fuck you saying sorry Molly. I would do it again. Everything."

"Everything?"

"Yes." He contemplates his answer. "Everything. My only regret was that I'd fucked it up between us by not being honest."

"You didn't fuck up anything." Putting my hand up I touch his face, feeling the roughness of his stubble, I'm not sure if it's allowed here, I mean us, we're still different ranks but for 5 minutes I don't care. They can court martial me if they want. "I understand why you didn't tell me."

"Do you?"

He looks young, hopeful, I watch as his other hand comes and takes mine, as if my hand on his face isn't enough. "Yeah course I do, I could do without this bleedin' clothes peg thingy though." It's stopping me from gripping onto him, not letting his hand go.

His laugh is a snort, a freedom to it that's been missing for nearly 6 months. "Now Dawes. We need to talk about you and morphine. I think you're allergic to the stuff, though it was fun to see you off your tits."

"Is that the medical term. Sir?"

"Yes."

"I can't remember." His laugh is infectious, I even go through the pain barrier of smiling with cracked dry lips, then I get sad again. "When will I see you again?" I know he can't be here all the time, I understand that, but it's as if everything will be okay if he's here, that I can get through this if I've got him.

"I've got to go back to Barracks." He stands up, then places himself on the edge of the bed, breaking every single rule of the hospital, the comfort of his hand on my forehead, pushing away the headache I've got. "but I've got 8 prize twats desperate to come and see you and then we're all on leave so you can see as much of me as you want."

"I've lost your number. I put it in my locket and it's gone." I'm not sure why I'm crying, well apart from the sense of loss I feel at losing the cheap necklace that had sentimental value to me without adding in the precious number it had in it.

Placing his forehead against mine he sighs, his breathing irregular, then his mouth moves round to my ear, taking a few deep breaths before he speaks. "We'll get you another. Please don't get upset about that." His thumb wipes away some tears, I'm probably wrong but his eyes are damp too, shiny as if he's maybe a bit upset too. "I'll need to keep in touch anyway and I think you promised me a date."

"Where you gonna' take me?"

"Where would you like to go?"

His body's shifted, his torso covering my upper body, his hand on the other side of me supporting his weight, relaxed, without thinking my hand touches his shoulder, holding onto it, I intentionally forget, like I think he has, that this is still forbidden. "Somewhere posh, like where there's waiters and stuff. You know the kind of place you see on the telly." In my mind I've even got a nice dress on. "You might need to order for me.'

"I think I can manage that." He's grinning, his eyes dancing with happiness or maybe he's been on the morphine too. "In the meantime…." His bottom lip is trapped between his teeth as if he's trying not to laugh, taking something out of his pocket, then he's got my arm, pulling it towards him, the pressure on my skin tickly as he starts to write. "Now Dawes, if you need to speak to me, mobile phone next to your bed, punch in these numbers and I'll adore you for always."


	25. Hungry Eyes

**This will be the last update for a few days, we've had the joy of 2 cars being sick and therefore I've not been able to go anywhere and have attached my arse to the couch! Thanks as always for the lovely comments and for reading, it does really help. Thanks to the guest who asked about Invincible, I do hope to get at least one more chapter done, I'm just trying to get over the ever present block when it comes to that story!  
**

The films not that funny, well I don't think it is, to be honest most of it's going over my head but when you're as bored as I am you'll agree to watch anything, especially when after months and months of having to keep your hands to yourself you can snuggle into the deliciousness of a rock hard chest, it's the comfiest thing ever, there's even a bit of drool from when I nodded off for a bit, and everytime he laughs he does this cute thing where he cuddles me a bit tighter and kisses the top of my nut. Obviously he shouldn't be lying on my bed with me but when you can charm the nurses like he can, and when you can piss the nurses off like I can then they tend to turn a blind eye and enjoy a bit of peace.

I've also cunningly got my hand on his elbow, to put him off from looking at his watch, I know he's gonna' have to go soon as it's dark outside but I don't want him to and I'm trying to buy precious seconds. "I'll be back soon Molly." He's a bleedin' mind reader.

"When?"

"Tuesday." That's two days away, not much but it seems like forever. "And if you lessen your vice like grip, I'll stay another 10 minutes."

"Sorry."

He laughs, pulling me back into him as I try to move away. "I said lessen so that you don't cut off my blood supply not let go completely." Tipping my chin up he kisses me, I have to admit that my life has got a whole lot better since I've been able to brush my teeth and sometimes when I'm really lucky he slips the tongue but the kill joys that are the nursing staff seem to think that any kind of fun ain't good for me and give me a row. I think they're just jealous.

It's always awkward when he goes, like what do you talk about? We can't exactly talk about my exciting plans for the next few days, 'cause he doesn't seem that interested in the latest DNA result on the Jeremy Vile show, though he pretends he does, the other day he even phoned to ask me what had happened though his yawn gave him away, and he doesn't want to be going on about all the exciting stuff that he's doing so there's a bit of an uncomfortable moment when he stands up and reaches for his jacket, looking at me like he's sorry and as guilty as hell. He bloody should be guilty, yet again he's not brought me a KFC, they've said no apparently, supposedly I'm not yet strong enough to get food poisoning but I'm sure he could have sneaked me one in. Where there's a will 'n' all that.

"Look after yourself." Sitting back down beside me he takes a big sigh, I copy him 'cause if not I think I'll cry and I don't want to do that. His fingers hold onto my chin, then he smiles, I love it when he smiles I always smile back - I think he knows that. "I'll phone you okay." He short changes me 'cause instead of giving me a snog he kisses my forehead then tugs one of my pigtails though when I turn and see Florence bleedin' Nightingale at the window, tapping her watch I realise why.

"Fucking voyager."

"Think you mean voyeur"

"Whatever" This time he does kiss me properly, leaning down as I've yet to master the art of sitting up, at the minute my skills in life are lying about and annoying people.

"Bye Dawes."

"Bye Boss"

I watch him, hating the sound of the door closing, hoping that he thinks of some reason why he needs to come back until the corridors empty, he's gone and I'm alone, my mind pondering what to do for the eternity that is the next 2 minutes until he's in the car.

There's no chance for him to answer, I speak as soon as he connects the call. "What about a burger king?"

"No." In the background there's the sound of the tick tick of the indicators as he leaves the car park on his hour and a half drive back, I'd argue that the journey was the most visual stimulation I get these days.

"I think I might discharge myself."

There's a pause, as if he's concentrating. "That's a good idea."

"Is it?" I ask hopefully.

"No of course not, they'll have you sectioned in minutes."

Shit. "I'll need to go to plan B then."

"What's plan B?"

"To think up plan C." I listen to the indicators going on again which is unusual, normally he'd be on the motorway by now, maybe there's a diversion which might work in my favour 'cause the car journey will be longer. "I think I might die if i don't get something 'bleedin edible to eat."

"It won't be long Molly. Look, can I phone you back in 5 minutes" The background noise stills as if the car's at a standstill. "I just need to pop into the garage and fill up."

"Alright." I keep the phone against my ear, waiting till the line goes silent, it's a habit I've got that I can't hang up first, that I need to be connected to him for as long as poss…...

"Can I have a Big Mac please…..yes with fries and a cola, yup I'll go large. Lovely. Oh and no ice in the drink." My mouth is wide open with shock "One look at you and I can't disguise…." My brain is struggling to comprehend the treachery that's going on, "Sorry? Oh yes salt and tomato ketchup please" My mouth is drooling. "Fantastic thank you." The rustling of paper is torture, "I've got hungry eyes….." There's the soft roar as the car starts up again, I'm in no doubt that he's placed the food between his legs, I can even see him driving one handedly as he eats and drinks. I think I'm going to scream, I'm sitting here in a hospital bed.

I hang up.

I phone him back.

"How…...could…..you. You bastard?" He starts to laugh, which is even worse. "I even offered you some of my dinner tonight, and you said you weren't hungry."

"I'm sorry." But he's not, I think he's in fucking hysterics. "Honest it isn't that nice." He says through a mouthful of food.

I actually whimper. "I'd do anything for some tasty food."

There's a slurp as he takes a drink, then it's as if it goes down the wrong way. Good. "Oh Dawes, now you are talking. Anything?"

"Please just get me some decent food."

xxxx

"We were all thinking the worst Molls." 8 lads in a hospital room is a squash, Smurf and Mansfield have taken to sitting on my bed, though one of them did nearly pull my drip out, thankfully the boss sorted it and gave them a row for being so 'bloody stupid.' Then he went back to leaning against the window, blocking the nurses view of me tucking into a family boneless banquet box.

"That journey back to camp was the longest ever." I feel bad that I'd put off seeing them, though I have had plenty of valid reasons, I've only really started to feel like myself since Charles started smuggling me in fast food, that and Bella shaved my legs for me and did my eyebrows, but I mainly put my continuing improvement down to the wonders of KFC and the thought of going on top as duly promised. Whenever I think of it I want to do my exercises, infact I'm doing some now, not that the lads can tell or that the physio would be impressed, 30 squeezes every minute 'cause it's been a while and well I want to be at my best.

"When we landed at Bastion, the Bossman belted it across to the Med Centre." When I look up he's watching me intently, his eyes hooded as if it's painful to remember. "Then he came and told us that you were still alive and that you were being shipped back to good old blighty." Mansfield leans over and nicks a chip, "But we were still all shitting ourselves, then when we were in Cyprus Beck told us that there had been complications and it wasn't looking good….. we heard that the Boss got special dispensation to head back, we all asked if we could go to but they refused." I never knew that, there's a hint of red to his cheeks as he looks down at his feet, I keep watching him, letting the conversation go on around me until he looks up, I stare at him, he stares back at me, I can't look away, he frowns softly as if he's begging me to understand. "We wanted to come and see you as soon as we landed but they said you weren't well enough. I suppose you've had your family visiting you too."

"Yeah, it's been a bit busy with visitors 'n' I get tired really easily." Like now, I need them to go but I want him to stay, pushing the box of greasy food away, resting my head on the pillow, watching him as he straightens up, clearing his throat.

"Right Lads let's think about heading back." You would think it would be easy to get them out of a hospital room but I think it takes all the Boss's leadership training to get them organised. First there's a fight as to who gets the rest of the KFC, an argument about who'll be best at smuggling it out and then they all want to say goodbye, which starts of as hugs and then when Smurf plants a smacker they all decide that they need to do that too, eventually they're standing outside but all attempts by Charles to get them to head to the minibus is futile, so he's watching them watching us, his hand on the bedside rail. Snorting, he rubs the back of his head, "I thought I could do this."

"What?" I ask, pulling myself up until I'm in a sitting position with my legs crossed, ignoring the tightening pain in my abdomen as I try to get closer to him.

"Leave, not kiss you or I dunno'" Exhaling a breath, he looks at me again, pleading as if I can give him a solution.

"I'm sure we can manage, it"s not as if we haven't had to wait out before."

"Jesus I wish they'd bugger off." His hands are on his hips, his focus back on the grounding point of his feet as he takes in deep breaths, when he looks up his eyes journey over me, his focus seemingly pausing at my lips which I helpfully bite. "Oh fuck it." He leans over, cradles my head in his hands and presses his lips against mine in a kiss that'll leave nothing to the lads imagination, he groans into my mouth at the sound of catcalls from outside, then he's applying more pressure, his tongue probing until he pulls away, my body instinctively following him then he's stilling me, righting me. "Don't think they could tell Beck anything he doesn't already know." He sounds accepting as if he's already thought this through.

"I was expecting a quick peck on the cheek but I ain't complaining." His thumb rubs against my cheekbone, eyes crinkling with amusement, when I laugh he laughs. "I can't believe you just did that."

"I'm gonna' have to do a lot of explaining."

"Yeah, they think you're still bleedin' married."

"Fuck I forgot about that." I watch as he lowers his head towards me again, then at the sound of a door opening he stops, his eyebrows raised questioningly but there's still a cheeky glimmer of humour in his eyes.

"Sir,we were wondering if your going to start saying bye to all of us like that, 'cause if so it might take a long time and well, the footballs on tonight."

"Baz."

"Yes Sir."

"Fuck off."


	26. Waiting Out

41 days I've been in here for now, 984 hours (I used the calculator on my phone) which have been filled with getting excited about shit liking going to the loo by myself, or bouncing about in excitement 'cause I've got to go down to the cafe or the best day ever when I was moved out of intensive care to another room with yet another 4 walls and a tiny window and nurses who weren't keen on me shagging the bossman and even worse, or maybe not but pretty annoying anyway, sticking to bleedin' visiting times meaning that my contact with normal human beings has been halved which is why I'm possibly enjoying the company of a 7 year old know it all, his dark hair all I can see as he studies my drawing, then he looks up fixing me with dark brown eyes that are screwed up with confusion. "What is it meant to be Molly?"

"It's a dinosaur?"

He puts his hand on my knee so he can get a better angle to study my drawing. "But it doesn't look like a dinosaur. Is it from the Triassic period?"

"I dunno' do I? And well that's what's great about it, it's like it's camouflage if you know what I mean, no other dinosaurs want to attack it 'cause it's scary but not a dinosaur, they don't know. " I haven't convinced him "Anyway what you drawn?"

"I've drawn a spinosaurus, they can swim but probably not as well as I can swim because I"m in the school swimming team. Have you seen a blue pencil?" He looks about, his task made harder seeing as my pit is covered with paper and pencils of every bleedin' shade under the sun, there's hardly enough room for me. "I'm going to draw some sea because it needs water to swim in."

"Well it would help." I don't think it's a good sign that Sam thinks that I don't know that a dinosaur would need water to swim.

"Are you a good swimmer.?"

"I can't swim."

"Maybe my daddy can teach you to swim."

I laugh then stop as I realise he's serious. "Nah, he'd just shout at me."

Sam giggles. "Daddy doesn't shout."

"Daddy does so shout. Your daddy's very good at shouting."

"No he isn't."

"He'd be a shouty saurus if he was a dinosaur."

"There's not a dinosaur called that silly."

I give it a lot of thought. "Or a bossysaurus"

"You're funny."

My wound starts to throb, the medication starting to wear off, I've got about an hour of this before I can get some more but at least it means that I can soon be discharged, and I don't have to trail an IV trolley about with me, though I'm getting tired of this, my mind ready to get on with my life whilst my body keeps putting obstacles in my way. "Do you want to watch a film, I don't think I can draw much more."

"Yeah if you want Molly." Maybe it's because he's an only kid, he always seems too old for his years; straight away he starts clearing the pencils and paper where as if my brothers were here, they'd have sat on top of everything and if they'd been made to clear everything up there would have been an almighty fight that would probably involve the old bill, mind you he does just dump them all on the floor, picking up the ipad and placing it at the bottom of the bed, settling himself, looking back at me as he stretches out. "Can we watch Jurassic Park?"

"Again? We watched that last time you were here."

"Yes but if you watch it properly this time then you might be able to draw a proper dinosaur next time."

He has a point. "How old are you again mate?"

"I'm 7 and a half."

"And the rest" I mumble. The titles of the film have started when the door to my room is pushed open, my face breaking into a grin "Ahh here comes my favourite dinosaur." My heart does that somersault thing as he walks in, he smirks as he ruffles Sam's hair, leaning down to give me a kiss on the lips the way he always does when we've got company where he pulls my bottom lip up with his and his tongue touches mine for a brief second but for anyone watching it looks like he's only giving me a brief peck. He's not even been gone long, 10 minutes at the most as he popped to the shops to get some 'scoff'. I love him. I haven't told him obviously and I know I've been saying it to myself for a while but at first I loved him 'cause he was gorgeous, nice and good at sex, then I loved him because he looked after me, made me laugh and treated me better than anyone ever has and now I love him because he's him and when he gets grumpy or hurt he goes all quiet and moody.

"Molly can't draw a dinosaur and she can't swim." Bloody little telltale.

"I can so Sam."

"I should bloody hope so, you shouldn't be in the army if you can't."

I wince pushing myself back up the bed, maybe he won't get arsey it if he feels sorry for me. "I missed that day."

He takes a sip of coffee, some things never change and sits on the uncomfortable plastic seat next to the bed as there's not enough room to join Sam and I which is a pity, he hands me a polystyrene cup of tea as he pulls a disbelieving face. "What the drawing dinosaurs day?"

"Yeah that one."

"Good because obviously with your rehabilitation at Headley requiring you to swim you wouldn't have wanted to pull a fast one about that."

"I'm not allowed to get my dressing wet unfortunately."

"Fair point." His feet go up on my bed, his hand into the bag on the floor where he pulls out a newspaper and a packet of crisps which he opens and without offering me one starts to eat which means that I'm left with a bloke engrossed in the latest news and a kid watching tv, who said visiting times were fun, I sigh, then I sigh again and thankfully on the third sigh he seems to remember that I'm still here, asking with a nonchalant shrug of his shoulders "Next weekend, when you go out for the day, I don't suppose you'll have any time to see me?"

I love visiting times. "I'd like it if all I saw was you. London's a bit far to go and well…."

Charles leans forward, ignoring the sound of the newspaper hitting the floor, I've got his attention, his eyes are all animated. "Thought we could go for something to eat and if you wanted I could book a hotel if you need to rest. Though…." He tugs the curls at the back of his head, it's cute. "The consultant for some reasons was at great pains to tell me that you should take it easy and not partake in anything too strenuous."

"I think as long as I'm lying down I'll be fine." I almost weep.

"That won't be happening." He bleedin' sniggers.

I'm thinking that possibly my flirting needs some work, I check that Sam's still otherwise entertained, his face pressed against the ipad leaning against the bottom of the bed, then I lower my voice "Do you mind waiting for me?"

He looks confused. "What do you mean?"

"i've been here a long time and well, before that we were in Afghan for nearly 6 months, and I know, well for the last few months all the blokes could talk about was going home 'n' having porn star sex whatever that is and you've not been able to or I don't think you've been able to, but if you haven't then it's been a long time and I wouldn't mind if you had obviously 'cause it's not as if we are in a relationship or anything I just…..."

"Dawes." He interrupts "Of course I don't mind waiting." The frown between his eyebrows deepens "And why would you think we weren't in a relationship?"

"I dunno."

"You're funny."

That's twice I've been told that today and I ain't convinced it's a compliment. "In a good way?"

"In a very good way." He tilts his head, keeping his eyes on Sam, his hands meet my hips as I slide to the end of the bed, supporting me until I'm curled up on his knee, my head resting against his chest listening to his heart beat.

"So you don't mind waiting out?" My fingers slide between two buttons on his shirt, stroking the smooth skin I've come in contact with, my cheek nuzzling against his breast bone.

"No." He clears his throat as if he's nervous.

"I've been desperate to." I tilt my chin until I'm looking into 2 dark eyes with dilated pupils. "Ever since." My hands find the buckle on his belt, tugging it gently, grinning as he pulls in his stomach. "We first…."

Two hands are placed on top of mine, stopping me from going any further, then I'm defying gravity, easily supported in his arms before being deposited back into my bed. He coughs, clearing his throat again and then there's silence as he watches my mouth, looking like he's trying to work something out in his head, his eyes eventually meeting mine, unsure. "I'm sure I heard the consultant wrong, I think you'll be fine as long as you're lying down."

"That's what I thought. I'm glad we're on the same page."

"Daddy what kind of dinosaur do you think Molly would be?" Sam looks back.

"A" Charles drops his mouth to my ear, his voice quiet against the special effects of Jurassic Park "fucking" Straightening up and putting his hands in his pockets, turning his head towards his son "Teasosaurus I think scamp." Exhaling a quick laugh through his nose, shaking his head as he looks at me as if I've amused him. "Where as I would be an arousedosaurus."

"What does that even mean Daddy?"

"It means that my right hand might be very tired by next weekend."

"Not too tired I hope?" I ask indignantly while Sam, bored with the grown ups goes back to watching wide eyed an exciting scene on the small screen.

"Dawes" His perfect nose touches mine, who knew noses could be sexy, his body perfectly still though his muscles are tense, very tense like a coiled spring, his eyes are almost black as they stare into mine "Where there's a will" not breaking the visual contact his mouth meets mine, his tongue on a mission of it's own; finding the tip of mine, starting up a slow torturous rhythm that has things happenin' to me down below if you know what I mean, before pulling back and winking "There's a way."

I think I'm gonna' combust.

 **Right, I promise there will only be another couple of chapters, jeez chapter 26! Anyway, we will get to the date soon though I am slightly crapping it and would really like it if you could just watch episode 5 again and enjoy the fabulous work of the tv series. I know I'm like a broken record but thank you so much for sticking with this :) I'm away to enjoy the updates from the fabulous Greenstuff and excitingly the wonderful So Dance. Can you believe Series 2 is being filmed - eeeekkkkk!**


	27. The End of the Journey

"Dawes"

"Dawes"

"Private Dawes."

My eyes snap open, looking around me, trying to work out what time it is, even where I am would be a start, I can't remember going to sleep, I can remember a hospital but this is like a hotel, but like one of those posh hotels that you see on tele, with the curtains coming down to the ground and two bleedin' huge windows and christ who needs that many cushions.

"Private fucking Dawes."

Shit. "JUST BE A MINUTE Sir" Swinging my legs out of the bed I go to stand up, bugger it all must have been a dream, is this decompression? A sharp pain makes me still trying to get the air back that whooshed out of my lungs, then I'm pulled, pressure from behind until I'm sinking back into the comfort of the bed and the bright amused eyes of a piss taking bastard. He puts his weight on his elbow, leaning his chin on his hand and tries to look innocent, he fails. "Didn't realise I had that influence over you?"

"Am I dreaming?" I need to check, though it is starting to come back to me that I was knackered after the car journey and might just have suggested I needed a little nap. I'm guessing it's maybe a couple of hours later.

He's gone all soft eyed, watching me, his hand stroking some hair behind my ear before tracing the contour of my lips. "More like a nightmare I'd say"

"Why"

"Well being shot, nearly 2 months in hospital."

"Yeah and I'm fully dressed."

Snorting a laugh down his nose, he shakes his head, placing his finger on my lips. "Listen."

I can hear the hum of a fridge but that's about it, I look at him in confusion. "I can't hear anything."

"Exactly, there's nothing but you and I Molly."

"That's a bit shit ain't it?" Obviously I don't mean that as I grin at him, what I really want to happen is for my clothes to magically disappear 'n' it would be a bit helpful if his did too though I wouldn't mind helping him what with me being such a nice person. "I'm a bit hot now I come to think about it." Subtle or what, he smirks at me, this isn't going well, he's pushing himself off the bed, reaching for his blazer. I watch him as he puts it on, feeling a smugness on top of my disappointment, remembering when he came to get me from the hospital, I could swear that all the nurses tongues were hanging out, mine was, but he didn't even look at them, coming straight into my room and saying the romantic words of 'stop pissing about with that bloody makeup Dawesy, we haven't got that long.' he'd leant down and kissed me, properly, not giving a shit who was watching, lifting my bag off the bed and flicking his head towards the door, as I'd stood up, he'd cupped my face in his hand and whispered in my ear. "Anyway….you always look perfect.' At that moment I'd felt content and secure, something that I'm not used to feeling in life.

"Come on sleeping beauty, we're late for dinner."

"I'm not hungry." My stomach growls. "Something from the mini-bar would do me, ooh look biscuits." One eyebrow is raised, sometimes I think he must watch too much James Bond, he lifts up my shoes, dangling them, I wish it were my knickers.

"Are you coming?."

"No."

"Wrong answer."

"Well what's the bleedin' right answer. 'Cause as much as I'd like to be I ain't." I snatch the shoes out of his hands.

"I think you'll find it's…." I get a knicker melting wink "Not yet." Then he walks away, collecting the keycard from the dressing table, stopping and nearly bumping into me as he spins back towards me, a serious look on his face as he looks down, his eyes searching my face. "Oh maybe we should get a few ground rules in place. Repeat after me. Do."

"Do."

"Not"

"Not. Do I have to do the hand actions as well?" I ask innocently.

"Go out the bloody door to do a runner."

"Go out the bloody door to do a runner."

"Oh and Dawes, good hand actions."

"Thank you Sir"

His mouth lands on mine, sweet and firm, it's only my need for air that makes me pull away and it was a close call, I'm not sure what instinct is stronger, the need for him or the need for oxygen. "You can ditch the Sir Molly."

"Thanks Boss."

xxxx

It's surreal, like nothing I've ever experienced before, his hand is in mine the whole way down to the restaurant until we're shown to the table, only letting go when he shoves the waiter out the way so that he can pull my seat out for me, okay I'm joking but it's not far off, there was a bit of a pissing competition going on for a minute until Charles obviously won and he didn't even need to do his four tours of Afghan speech, only pulling himself up to his full height and arching an eyebrow, it even continued when the waiter who is a bit of a job's worth made a display of putting the napkin over my knee before he threw a camp look in the Bossman's direction and pissed off. "So are we on a date?" I lean over, ignoring the advice from the font of all knowledge 'Pretty Woman' and put my elbows on the table. Thankfully he copies me.

"I should bloody hope so I've pulled out all the stops."

I look around the restaurant. "Well not all."

"Really?" He leans forward, I can see the clogs of his brain turning as he tries to think what he's missed.

"Yeah, should there not be bleedin' guitar players or something or roses, I'm sure in films there's always flowers of some kind."

"Ah I've failed you then." But he's not being serious, a smirk on his face, shit he knows me well enough to realise that would be my worst nightmare, he lifts the glass of wine up to his lips and I watch transfixed, drinking in that I'm here with him, no rules or reasons that we can't be here; together, he grins at me then looks down at the menu as if he's remembered that food might be involved, picking it up and smirking at me over the top "Do you want me to order for you."

"Depends what you're gonna' order?" I've already decided what I'm going to go for; my mouth watering at the thought, for once I'm one step ahead of him but who can blame me after months of rations followed by hospital food and then the icing on the cake; fast food, in fact unbeknown to him I'd had a look at the menu on the car journey down.

His fingers are slowly, deliberately tapping on the table as if he knows this is some sort of test, his head angled to the side as he contemplates, exhaling a long slow breath, one side of his mouth tilting. Maybe I don't need food. "Shit, just tell me Molly."

"Scallops and then sirloin, medium, well with a bit of pink."

"Excellent exactly what I'd order for you."

"Really"

He scratches the back of his head, avoiding my eye. "Without a doubt." Then he's back, leaning on the table as if he can't get close enough to me. "What would you order for me?"

"I'd order….." I smile at the waitress that's come to take our order, making up for the fact that he's not taken his eyes off me. "I'd order soup and the salmon."

"There you go then."

I'm not convinced, he's just being a gentleman and it wasn't as if I'd put much thought into, picking the first two dishes that had caught my eye, in fact I bet you he'd really be a Venison kind of bloke, probably got weaned on that kind of thing.

"So how does it feel?"

"Being in a restaurant?"

"No" He laughs "Not being in hospital."

"A bit weird if I'm honest, it's like I've" I'm not sure how to explain it, words leaving me, looking to him to fill in the blanks as he always does but I'm aware that he's maybe not got all his attention on me, his eyes are staring at the plate of succulent apply sauced scallops that's been placed in front of me, his tongue flicking over his bottom lip, I look at his soup, trying to hide a smirk like who comes to a restaurant like this and orders something boring, or even lets someone choose that for them, when his eyes do travel up to mine I smile smugly, popping the melt in your mouth taste of the sea into my gob, theatrically closing my eyes as I savour the sweetness of the sauce, 'cause let's be honest the actual things don't taste of anything, then with a final oscar winning worthy sigh open my eyes; not to a jealous Bossman like I'd imagined but a rather pleased with himself Charles, it's when, slightly defeated, I go to spear another onto my fork do I notice that the counts out, and maybe I didn't do too well at school but even I can do those kind of sums. "Did you just nick one of my scallops?"

He chews twice then swallows."'Didn't want you to get too full."

We both crack up, it's feels good to laugh; really laugh as if my soul's lightening."They're good ain't they." I move my fork towards him, losing a scallop is worth it to see the boyish look of amusement in his eyes, if I'm honest it's like the six months on tour haven't happened and I'm still with the young carefree man I met in a nightclub, a childish giddiness to both of us. I can't take my eyes off him, watching him watching me as he eats the scallop then moves across the table towards me, his mouth finding mine before cruelly pulling away again.

"I love you."

My fork stops, hovering mid-air when the words reach my ears, I can't help but be drawn to him, his eyes are shifting from empty space to mine, a tinge of red to his cheeks, there's no doubt that he's as surprised as I am that the words came out of his mouth. "Ditto?" I offer, unsure why the right words won't come out. I've ruined the mood, he's retreated, no sparkle in his eyes. I'm annoyed with myself, trying to get the words from my head and heart out to the awkward air around us. "Do you think it could work between us?"

"Of course." One of his shoulders are lifted towards his ears as if he's trying to reassure me or maybe him that my answer was okay that he's not disappointed. "If we want it to."

"I want it to, of course I do but just what if I'm posted elsewhere or I dunno' our ranks."

"We won't be the first and I'm sure we won't be the last to have feelings for each other." Charles takes a sip of wine, taking his time placing it carefully back down as if he's considering something. "Anyway, what with your medal they'll want to keep you in, Beck knows that we're in a relationship, the hardest part is done. hopefully once you've finished your rehabilitation we can request that you'll be posted near me and we can take it from there."

"I'd like that, you know to be near you." I reach over, placing my hand over his. "Though I'm still pissed about getting the MC, bloody mortifying mate."

The beautiful lopsided grin lifts his face, his hand covering mine. "You deserved it."

"Only for doing my bleedin' job." I answer as huffily as I can.

"Above and beyond Dawes." He winks leaning back as the next course is placed in front of us, breaking our connection, a comfortable silence taking over as we start to eat.

"What about you?" I ask a few mouthfuls later, placing my knife and fork together, I'm not going to be able to eat much.

"Yeah well, go back to ordering the under fives' about but further than that I don't know, I'd like to stay in but well we'll see."

In the silence that follows I have a sudden need to give him something, make up for the words that I feel but can't say. "I've been desperate to." His head whips up, still chewing as he watches me. "Ever since that first night I've never thought of anyone but you." He swallows awkwardly, taking a sip of wine, watching me over the rim of the glass, then he too places his cutlery together, lifting the napkin from his lap, placing it down on the table as he stands coming round to be beside me and holding his hand out:

"Let's go, I think we've both waited long enough." An invitation to what what I've craved for months now but ironically after all my previous bravado I feel nervous, this isn't a stolen moment where you take what you can get with the thought process happening afterwards, this is premeditated, we both know what we're gonna' do; something I've dreamt about over and over again, in my mind it was perfect the first time, always has been when I've spent nights in a tent full of guys or a lonely hospital bed thinking about it, remembering the feelings that he could create inside me, never sure if I would get the chance again; but I have and it's now. I stand putting my hand in his where it belongs, he squeezes, his long fingers offering reassurance as if he knows, his other hand dropping to the small of my back sending off fireworks that make me feel as if my legs are like jelly but I follow meekly, lost to the dark intense look that's in his eyes as he looks down as if to make sure that I'm following.

We stay like that until we're in the room, a finality to the soft click of the door closing behind us, then he turns me, effortlessly lifting me until my legs are around his waist, his mouth closes on mine, hot and wet, a moan, sounding into my mouth as he walks us back towards the bed, one hand circling the skin above my zip before I feel the cool air descending slowly down my spine, then he covers the final steps to the bed, laying me on it and looking at me so intensely that I feel naked already, my legs still on either side of him. "Let me look at you." I can only nod, lifting my hips as my dress is removed, discarded to the side, his gaze travelling down my body "You're beautiful."

"You ain't so bad yourself." My words are hoarse, my throat dry, I want this so much, my back instinctively arching towards his touch, seeking the contact of his fingers as they still on my hipbone, one side of his mouth tilts in amusement as he finishes his job leaving me naked.

"Tell me what you want."

"I want you."

He smiles, lowering his body over mine, the roughness of his clothes somehow creating new sensations against my skin. "Oh come on now Dawes, you'll need to do better than that." His lips find a sensitive spot on my neck that I never knew existed, teasing, promising, a pulse starting between my legs.

"I want you now?"

"Nope."

"Please." I beg. "I need you naked, I don't want there to be any barriers between us."

"That's better." The cold air is harsh against my skin as he stands, an urgency to his movements as he removes his clothes, leaving them where they land until he's back beside me, for the first time it's skin on skin contact, how it should be then in slow motion his brow furrows as he see's something, I know what it is, lifting my head, heavy with lust I see his hand, taking it and moving it to the scar, tracing his fingers along the puckered skin. "See it ain't sore, I promise." Something's changed, an uncertainty to him which is unusual, almost a need for me to take control so I whisper words, some that sound crude, wrong as they trip off my tongue when said aloud but which have the right reaction, the shadow of doubt shifting to be replaced with a look of hunger, his fingers following my commands, his mouth seeking their own spots as he moves lower, his chin resting for a moment above my pubic bone as he makes a final check that I'm still with him. Of course I am, letting him know by pushing my hips up towards him, juddering, moaning as his mouth makes contact; at first a sweet kiss, his stubble tickling before his mouth closes, insistent, a finger slips inside of me "jesus christ" his words break the silence in the room only to be replaced by my breathing, harsher as his hand restrains me, holding me against his mouth, his fingers, one quickly joined by two building a rhythm that I can't escape from, a moan, a scream starting to build in my throat as I tense, delaying the perfect moment for a second then my body is rising towards him, straining until I have to break; perfectly falling, splintering into delicious sparks of pleasure, darkness spilling into my vision as the aftershocks roll over me, I'm aware; just, that his mouth is making it's way back up, sweet kisses trailing a path until we're face to face. "Hey" he whispers, a hoarseness that's reflected in my copied reply. I wonder if he realises how much I adore him, his hand stroking my hair, wrapping it in his grasp, then he's tugging it almost angrily, his teeth clamping down on my lower lip, with a groan he breaks, "I need you Molly, you still want this?"

"More than anything." I say confidently, my body already craving him, not having to wait long as he slides inside, easily but fully filling me, the feeling of having him there again almost bewildering, a scary tension starting to build up as he hits a spot deep inside of me, withdrawing a fraction then hitting it again, my teeth grazing his shoulders as my fingers dig into his arms, my hips shifting needily against his. The smile that he bestows upon me is of unadulterated happiness, I think I'm on the same page, wrapping my arms around his neck, his hands guiding my legs until they're back around his waist, slowly building the rhythm to one that I can keep up with and just as I manage to follow he picks up the momento to one I can't sustain and then his hands are on my hips, hitting that spot harder, fuller and shit, my body's beginning to convulse again, clutching him desperately and out of nowhere I'm falling again, crying out his name and then with one more thrust he's following me, my name the only sound in the room as he comes, then he stills, his body comforting on top of mine.

We stay like this, I can't say for how long but I'm in no rush to move, content with the heaviness of his body against mine, I'm not sure if he's sleeping his breathing is regular, unlike his heart beat that I can feel against my ear racing. "I love you too." But he's awake, his breathing missing a beat, a kiss placed against my forehead, then I'm following him as he lies on his back; pulling me on top of him, his hands grasping the sides of my face as I stare into warm safe eyes.

"We were meant to be Molly the cockney."

 **The End.**

 **Thank you all soooo much for all your support, I'm going to have a rest from the trials, stresses and self doubt of FF writing though I'm sure I will be back to annoy you all at some point… anyway in the spirit of the tv series :)**

 _ **Three months later…**_

 _I pause, my hand on the ornate door knocker that would be too heavy for the thin door in East Ham, my heart hammering in my chest as I lift the metal, almost jumping at the loud noise as it makes contact, taking a step back I look up again at the grandeur of the house, doubts starting to creep in that maybe I've got my timings wrong, but then my world stills, hopefully our time apart nearly at an end as I hear the sound of a door being unlocked; then it's opened and he's standing there, the face I haven't seen for a month and I know he's pleased to see me, even though I've surprised him, made him believe that I'd rather spend a night with my parents rather than with him; mental or what? "Missed me?" Still he stands there as if he's not sure if I'm a figment of his imagination or really there then with a final amused shake of his head I'm invited in, the familiar tilt of his head welcoming; like coming home._

 _He looks well, a calmness to him; as if his short tour to Afghan that had me worrying for 28 days solid has done him good, laid to rest his nightmares of seeing Smurf's brother die and nearly losing me. I reach up on my tiptoes, pressing my lips to his, giggling with the relief of being back with him, that we can start planning the rest of our lives together because that's what I want; I'm not scared anymore. His hands fly to my face, his body pushing me up against a wall, my toes leave the ground as the force of his kiss sweeps me off my feet, his hands go to my hips encouraging me to put my legs around his waist and then we're moving, taking the steps two at a time in his haste to get me upstairs._

 _Afterwards our bodies are pressed together, the sheets in disarray around us, my head on his chest listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat, my fingers trailing patterns on his skin._

 _"Molly." He says softly, pulling me up until my head is resting on the pillow beside him, his hand tracing the line of my jaw "There's nothing in our way anymore. We can be together."_

 _"For the rest of our lives?"_

 _"Yeah" There's a soft chuckle as I'm pulled back into him, his words whispered against my hair "Though if I'm honest that doesn't sound long enough."_

 _"Ditto."_


End file.
